Bludger
by GreenEyesGreySkies
Summary: Draco takes the hit from a bludger intended for Harry and develops a strange and severe case of amnesia. Feeling responsible, Harry decides to help Draco get back into the swing of things. With a clean slate and a budding friendship, will Hogwarts' biggest rivals finally get their shot at a second chance? 8th year AU. reminder that THIS IS AU, some dead characters are alive.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: And I am BACK! Well it hasn't really been a while, but the sentiment is still there, I hope. Got this random idea, don't know if it's been done, but I don't really care either! I realize that I don't put the disclaimer that these characters are NOT mine in every chapter, but I'm hoping you'll start from the beginning and see that it's here. Sadly, they aren't mine, but J.K. Rowling's. Okay? Okay.**

Chapter 1

"Got to do better than that if you want to win, Potter!" Draco shouted as he sped past the Gryffindor on his broom.

He laughed as Potter raced after him to catch up and flew faster, throwing the other Seeker sharp turns and loops in an attempt to lose him. The score was almost evenly matched with Gryffindor slightly in the lead, so if Draco could just find the snitch, Slytherin would finally prevail over Gryffindor and Draco would finally prevail over Potter. Suddenly, he saw a flash of gold dart high above the pitch and the other players. Smirking, he sped up to catch it. But unfortunately Potter had seen it too, and was right on his tail in an attempt to beat him.

"Get out of my way, scarhead!" Draco yelled, trying to block the other boy's path. "This one's mine!"

"I don't think so, Ferret," Potter shot back, lowering his head and gaining more speed until he was right next to Draco.

They flew together like that, neck to neck, competing fiercely to get to the snitch first. Draco narrowed his eyes and concentrated fully on the task at hand. He would do anything it took to get the snitch first, if it resulted in finally beating and humiliating Potter. Once they'd finally reached the area, Draco saw the little gold object fly in front of his face. Potter was coming in from the other side and had reached out for it, his face scrunched up with intense focus.

And at that moment, Draco noticed very specific two things. One, that if he went for it now, he could be the one to capture the snitch first, and two... a bludger was barreling straight towards the back of Potter's head.

Draco didn't hesitate. He raced towards Potter at breakneck speed, ignoring the snitch completely.

"_Move_," he screamed, motioning at the bludger behind him.

The other boy didn't seem to understand. The snitch was right behind Draco and Potter looked irritated.

"No, _you _move!"

"Really, look out!" Draco shrieked.

The Gryffindor finally turned around and saw the bludger coming right for his face, and his green eyes widened in panic.

"_Potter!_"

Without thinking, Draco flew towards Potter and shoved him roughly out of the way, just in time for the bludger to make contact with the side of his head with a sharp, sickening crack. Everything was spinning and he could vaguely make out the sounds of shouts and commotion in the crowd before seemingly losing his sense of hearing in a split second. Draco felt the surreal sensation of dying and blurriness as he slipped off his broom, and the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a pair of wide, emerald eyes hovering above him.

**~x~**

Harry paced outside of the Hospital Wing nervously, biting his lip and clenching his fists as he walked. Malfoy had taken the bludger to the head hard, and he'd been out cold for about a week now. But Madam Pomfrey had informed him that the boy had woken up that morning and was supposed to take a few tests before anybody could see him. And Harry needed to see him. Gods, he felt so terrible about the whole thing. Worse than terrible, he had felt guilt viciously gnawing at him ever since the match. Even if Malfoy was an annoying bastard, he didn't deserve this. Nobody did.

Harry chewed on his lip some more and frowned. And if Malfoy hadn't pushed him out of the way, Harry certainly would've died from the impact. It was even a miracle that Malfoy hadn't. So was it a good thing that he was practically in a coma right now? Harry shuddered at the thought.

He was admittedly nervous about seeing Malfoy for the first time since the accident. He didn't know what state the other boy was in, if he would react horribly, or hate him even more, or blame him for what happened. But then again, he didn't really know where they stood together. Malfoy hadn't deliberately tried to provoke Harry since they came back for their eighth year, but it was clear that the intense dislike was still there. Perhaps he had changed, as everything did with the ending of the war. But surely, Malfoy still hated Harry. Especially now that he had almost gotten him killed on the spot. Right?

But then, why would Malfoy save him from that bludger? Harry had been trying to figure that one out for days now. He was the reason that Malfoy's parents and leader were dead, the reason his life was now hell as an ex-Death Eater. He shook his head and continued to pace back and forth in the hallway. It would probably always be a mystery to him. It wasn't as if he and Malfoy were ever going to sit down and have that heartfelt discussion over tea and biscuits. That was just ridiculous.

"Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey's dainty face popped out from the doorway.

Harry frowned. She looked distressed.

"What's wrong? Is he okay? Oh gods, please don't tell me he's dead."

She sighed. "Well, no, not exactly. We're calling for Professor Snape right now. There's a situation."

Harry shook his head. "Let me in there to see him."

"I'm not sure that's the wisest—"

"Please, I'm the one who did this to him, just let me see him!"

She closed her eyes, but nodded resignedly. "All right. Just… Just try not to be too shocked."

Harry entered the room anxiously, looking around for the blond-haired Slytherin. Was he horribly disfigured? Paralyzed? Disgustingly bloody?

"He's behind here," Pomfrey said, motioning towards a curtain. Harry nodded and walked towards the curtain, slowly pulling it back. Then he frowned at what he saw.

Malfoy was sitting there, casually reading a magazine and eating a bowl of soup. He looked completely normal, except for the fact that his familiar smirk was missing from his face, and that his normally immaculate blond hair was strewn about his face. Harry cleared his throat a little in surprise. Why would he be shocked? Was this some kind of joke?

At the noise, the blond looked up from his magazine and right at Harry. But instead of looking furious that he was there, as Harry expected, Malfoy only stared at him blankly. Even his trademark steely grey eyes hardly showed any emotion at all.

"Are you here to give me more tests?"

Harry frowned. "Um, no?"

Then Malfoy did the strangest thing. He smiled. "Good. I don't want any more of those."

This has to be a joke now. Malfoy would never look at Harry like that, not even for a bet. So what the hell was he doing? Why wasn't he angry to see him, or even showing any signs of recognising him?

"Well, okay..."

"So if you're not here to give me tests, what are you here for?"

"Erm… to say sorry?"

"Sorry for what?"

Harry had barely had time to analyse the mind-boggling situation in his head when suddenly, the curtains rustled and Harry spun around to find Professor Snape and Dumbledore rushing in. "Get out of the way, Potter," Snape snarled, pushing past his shoulder rudely. Dumbledore glided by as well with a simple nod, and Harry was a bit disconcerted by the lack of luster in his normally twinkling eyes. The two of them went straight for Malfoy's bedside.

Malfoy grinned at the sight of Snape, seemingly having recognised him on the spot (but Harry wasn't bitter about that, or anything).

"Uncle Severus!" Then he saw Dumbledore and his grey eyes widened in surprise. "And Headmaster Dumbledore! What an honour!"

"Hello, it is good to meet you, dear boy."

"Wow, it is good to meet you too, sir!"

Harry frowned. What the hell was going on with him? Malfoy had known Dumbledore for over 8 years now. Was everybody in on this joke? Because it really wasn't funny at all. He frantically racked his brain for anything that might help him understand what was going on, but nothing was coming to him at the moment. So he continued to stare blankly at the scene in front of him.

"Draco, what is the last thing you remember before you woke up?" Snape asked slowly. Harry had never seen that expression of concern on his normally sallow face before. It was unnerving.

Malfoy stopped to think for a bit. "Um, I think that Father was ordering school supplies for Hogwarts." He looked around. "Where is Father, anyhow? Has he left me here? I still don't know where I am."

Snape winced a little. He put a hand on Malfoy's shoulder. "That memory was from when you were 11, Draco. You're 19 now."

Malfoy frowned. "Then why can't I remember those 8 years?"

"You were hit in the head by a bludger while playing Quidditch."

"I play Quidditch?"

"For the Slytherin team, yes. You're the Seeker."

"Really? Wow! How did I get hit?"

Snape jerked his head towards Harry. "Him."

Malfoy turned to look at Harry with a frown. "He hit me?"

"No, no!" Harry said, holding his hands up in defence. "It was going for me, but you pushed me out of the way and got hit yourself," he lowered his eyes. "Which I'm really grateful for, by the way."

"You were extremely lucky that Mr. Malfoy was there, Harry," Dumbledore said.

Harry nodded. "I know."

Malfoy gazed at Harry for a few moments in silence. "Who are you?"

Harry felt a pang of shock and disbelief in his chest. How could Malfoy not know who he was, after all these years of pain and torture between them? After everything they've been through? What was going on? Granted, he used to fantasise about the day that Draco Malfoy would finally get over his strange obsession with taunting Harry, and forget about him. But not like this. Never like this.

He felt as if his throat was closing in as he spoke. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter. You don't remember me?" he croaked softly.

Malfoy looked at him curiously, and for a moment, Harry thought that he was going to sit up and smirk at him. But the boy only shot him another odd grin. "_Harry Potter!_ You mean the Boy Who Lived? _I_ saved the Boy Who Lived? Merlin's _beard!_"

Snape looked disgusted at that, while Dumbledore just looked amused. "Yes, you saved him. Draco, I believe that you're suffering from a strange case of amnesia. Strange, because you can remember events and people from the time before you attended Hogwarts, but nothing after that. Can you remember anything about being here?"

Malfoy looked around. "I'm at Hogwarts? That's interesting. No, I've never been here before."

"Well, this is the Hospital Wing, but yes, you are at Hogwarts. And you've been in this room several times, as well."

Malfoy looked concerned. He glanced around again. "What's going on? Have I lost my mind?" he whispered.

Snape rubbed his forehead tiredly. "I don't know, Draco. But I'm going to do everything in my power to find out."

"Until then, Mr. Malfoy, I believe that it would be in your best interest to return to your daily life with the help of myself and those around you, of course, and try to regain as much knowledge as possible," Dumbledore chimed in.

Malfoy hesitated, but nodded. "All right. But I need some basic information about myself, first. Did I have friends?"

Dumbledore and Snape looked at each other. Snape shrugged. "Most of your friends did not attend Hogwarts this year."

Malfoy frowned. "Why?"

Harry gasped. Malfoy didn't know about the war! He didn't know about Voldemort coming back, or being a Death Eater, or anything! Gods, this was going to be a shock for the other boy. He felt a rush of sympathy and guilt. This was all his fault. _What can I do to make this better?_

Snape looked conflicted. "Ah, that's a whole other topic to discuss, Draco." He stopped to think for a moment. "There _is_ Blaise Zabini."

Suddenly, an idea popped into Harry's head. "I'll do it, sir," he blurted out.

Everybody turned to look at him. "What? No, that wouldn't do. It'd have to be somebody that was a close_friend_ of Draco's," Snape answered.

Malfoy interrupted them. "Wait, Harry Potter isn't my friend?"

Dumbledore and Snape exchanged looks again. "Maybe it'd be good for him to be around Harry," Dumbledore suggested.

Snape shook his head. "Regarding their history, though—"

"What history?" Malfoy butted in.

They both ignored him. "Mr. Malfoy might be a bit overwhelmed if he was confronted by somebody that he knew considerably well. I think that it would be beneficial for Mr. Potter to have that opportunity. And who knows, it could patch up their history."

"_What history?_" Malfoy repeated insistently.

Snape sighed. "Very well." He turned back to look at Harry. "You can be the one to drag him around school," he sneered. Harry cheered inwardly. "But that means your schedule must be changed to his," Snape continued. "An all Slytherin schedule. Are you prepared for that?"

Harry cringed. Slytherins. "Yes, sir," he replied.

"Fine. We'll leave you alone to discuss the basics then." Snape turned back to Malfoy, who was still decidedly confused. "Don't worry. I'll cure you as soon as possible."

Malfoy nodded slowly, as if trying to take it all in. "Okay. Where's Mother? Didn't she hear about my injury? Surely she would've come."

Snape looked pained. "She—she can't."

"Why?"

"Draco—"

"Why isn't she here?"

"Your parents are dead, Draco."

Malfoy shrunk back in horror. "What? How could they be dead? What happened?" Pain filled his eyes and Harry looked away, feeling somewhat ashamed. He was to blame for their deaths, after all. Apparently, he was to blame for a lot of things that were happening to Malfoy. The rush of guilt flooded him again.

Snape shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry," was all he managed. Then he turned and left the room, Dumbledore not far behind him. It was just Harry and Malfoy now. Harry stole a peek at Malfoy, but the other boy was turned away from him, still quiet. He bit his lip and fiddled with his sleeves nervously. What was he supposed to do in a situation like this? His sworn enemy of 8 years had completely forgotten who he was, and now he was just sitting here, not sneering or taunting him at all. Harry had needed to reintroduce himself, for Merlin's sake! He hardly thought that introductions were necessary after having hexed each other more times over the years than Hermione had read _Hogwarts, A History._It was just weird.

After a long while, Harry cautiously sat down on the bed next to the silent blond. "Hey, Malfoy?"

The other boy looked up at him, as if just noticing him. "What?"

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you said that."

"Oh. How much do you know about yourself, right now?"

Malfoy tapped his chin and took a deep breath. "I'm Draco Malfoy, and I'm 19 years old. I've apparently been attending Hogwarts for 8 years now, I'm on the Slytherin Quidditch team, Blaise Zabini is my friend and you're not. And my parents are dead." He looked perplexed for a moment. "It's funny though. My father wanted me to befriend you. When I went to Hogwarts, I mean. So why aren't we friends?"

Harry sighed. "There were some complications."

"Like what?"

"Well, first of all, you were a jerk."

"Hey!"

"It's true. But I was stubborn, as well. We got in a bit of an argument, you see, and we never tried again. Plus, I got sorted into Gryffindor and you were in Slytherin. So that was the root of the dilemma there."

"Ah. So we disliked each other?"

Harry snorted. "'Dislike' is sort of a weak way of putting it."

Malfoy cocked his head. "Well, I don't see any reason to hate you right now. You seem pretty likeable to me."

Harry laughed a little. This was so weird. "Erm, thanks, Malfoy."

"Why do you keep calling me 'Malfoy'?"

Harry frowned, realising that Malfoy probably wasn't used to people calling him that all the time. He supposed that it wouldn't hurt to change it up for the time being, seeing as the other boy seemed pretty harmless at the moment. Still, it would be a massive alteration on his part. "Oh, um, I don't know. We usually call each other by our last names, I guess because we don't like each other."

"Well… I don't really like it. Can you call me Draco? I'll call you Harry."

"Um… Okay. Draco." The name felt peculiar as it rolled off his tongue. He decided it would probably take a while to get used to saying it, let alone thinking it. And for now, he supposed that it would be okay to think it the way he always had.

Malfoy—Draco—smiled, satisfied. "Good. So tell me, is there anything terribly important I need to know to go about my daily life?"

"Hm. Well, I don't know. I'm not sure how much of your studies you remember, if anything at all. We'll have to see. And you'll have to get your Slytherin password from a classmate. But other than that, I think you're good."

Malfoy looked pensive for a moment. "Did I have a girlfriend?"

Harry was startled by the question. He honestly didn't know whether Malfoy even had any sort of romantic interest in anyone at all, because that usually wasn't the type of thing he paid attention to when he was around the other boy. But it could have also been because he really hadn't been paying attention to the Slytherin this year. The idea of pre-accident Malfoy running around with some poor girl made Harry feel a bit queasy inside.

"No. At least, not that I know of. I reckon you had a couple during the years, but I can't recall them now."

"Oh."

"Do you want me to lead you back to Slytherin? I can't go in there of course, but I'm sure somebody'll be around to let you in."

"Um, okay."

Harry held out a hand and Malfoy took it, easing himself out of bed carefully. He looked a little wobbly at first, but after a few steps he was fine. Harry handed Malfoy his school robes and turned around to give him privacy while he changed. He stared at the white, pasty wall in front of him and resisted the urge to turn around and check if Malfoy had his wand out to his back, ready to hex him now that he was off guard. Fortunately, Malfoy did not hex him, and Harry found himself a bit more reassured than before.

And after Malfoy was done changing, Harry started to walk out of the room, but the Slytherin caught up to him and grabbed his arm. Surprised, Harry frowned at him. The blond squeezed him lightly. "I'm still a little shaky on my legs. And I'm feeling kinda mentally unstable, too," he joked.

Harry shrugged. The day was getting weirder by the minute. Not only were he and Malfoy getting along quite well, Malfoy was touching him and trusting him to help him ease back into his life. He was calling him 'Harry'. And Harry had to keep reminding himself that he had to think of the other boy as 'Draco', not Malfoy. It was utterly bizarre. Harry was constantly on edge, as if at any moment Malfoy would snap back into his old self and yank away from him, sneering and hexing him into the next century. And he felt a little bad that he was doing that, as well. He shuddered. _Happy thoughts, Harry_, he reminded himself.

On the way back, they passed several students, who stared at them as if hell had suddenly frozen over. Harry bit back a smile. They were probably quite a sight to see. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, mortal enemies, walking down the corridor arm in arm. What a show.

"What are they all staring at?" Malfoy whispered, looking a bit afraid as he glanced around at his surrounding classmates.

Harry laughed. "Us. Never in this lifetime had they thought they would witness the two of us together. Never."

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "We hated each other that much? Over one little quarrel in first year?"

"Well, it was more than just one quarrel. But essentially, yes."

"How odd."

Harry sighed. "You're telling me."

They walked on through the corridors amongst whispers and people pointing at them. Harry could feel Malfoy's hand tensing around his forearm, and he suddenly felt the strange urge to pull the other boy in and protect him from the crowd with his body. He shook off the thought with a shake of his hair and looked up, immediately spotting two familiar faces coming towards them.

"Harry!" Hermione called, waving at him. Then she noticed Malfoy and stopped, bewilderment written all over her face. "And... _Malfoy?_"

Ron was there, too. "So Malfoy's out of the Hospital Wing," he observed. His mouth was twisted in disgust as if he'd just tasted a lemon. "Why are you helping him?"

Malfoy looked offended. "He's my guide. Aren't you, Harry?"

Both of his friends looked shocked. "_Harry?_" Ron repeated, a flabbergasted expression on his face.

"Um, yeah," Harry replied, giving them a look as if to say 'I'll explain later'. The two of them nodded, still looking a bit dazed. Harry would have been quite amused if he wasn't so flustered by the crowds of people who were adamantly staring at them right now. He tried not to make eye contact with surrounding students and kept his gaze firmly on his friends.

"Well then, all right… We'll see you later, Harry," Hermione said, shaking her head at them, a curious glint in her eye. Ron just nodded dumbly.

"Bye," Harry called after them, still leading Malfoy towards the Slytherin dungeons.

Malfoy jerked his thumb in their direction. "Who were they?"

"Um, they're my friends, Ron and Hermione."

"Oh. Well, they're a bit rude."

Harry fought the urge to laugh. "Ah, but you've been even more so to them."

Malfoy looked surprised. "I have? How?"

"Let's not go into that right now. If you're going to be around me these days, they'll be around too. Which means we don't want to go back into the hating each other's guts phase."

"Okay, that makes sense. But they have to behave too, if I have to."

"I'll talk to them. You just worry about figuring yourself out."

They walked in silence until they reached the Slytherin portrait hole, and Harry nodded towards it. He'd never really been down here, before. Well, except for that one time in 2nd year. But that was irrelevant. And it wasn't as if he'd inspected the area quite thoroughly when he'd been there, anyway, it hadn't been some sort of guided tour.

"Well, here it is. Oh, Zabini!"

Harry waved at a tall, dark-haired boy walking by, recognising him as one of Draco's close friends. Zabini glanced at him offhandedly, and then at Malfoy next to him. His dark eyes widened.

"Draco!" He rushed over and put a hand on the other boy's shoulder. "Are you okay? When did you get out of the Hospital Wing? Why didn't you contact me?" Malfoy just blinked at him, clearly confused at the flurry of questions being thrown at him.

Zabini frowned and looked at Harry. "What's wrong with him? Can't he speak?"

"Yes, I can speak," Malfoy said, sounding affronted. "But who are you?"

Zabini raised his eyebrows. "I'm Blaise, _Draco's_ best friend. Who are _you?_"

Harry cut into the conversation, seeing that this would not end well without explanations. "Um, Zabini, Malfoy—I mean, _Draco—_has lost a bit of his memory. Well, I mean most memories. But we're working on it right now. Don't worry about it, we just need you to show him around the common room and get him back into the swing of Slytherin things, or whatever it is you guys do."

Zabini narrowed his eyes at him. "So what are you doing here? This is your fault!"

Harry sighed. "I know, and I'm sorry, okay? I'm to help him get back to his life."

Zabini scoffed. "_You?_ I'm his best friend, it should be _me_ helping him. Sod off, Potter."

"And you will! With the stuff I can't help him with. Like, what goes on in there, for instance," he nodded towards the portrait hole, trying not to shudder.

"He doesn't need you if he's got me," Zabini argued.

Harry was about to counter that with a not-so-nice remark, but Malfoy held his hands up in mediation first. "Wait, wait. If you're my best friend, _Blaise,_I'm sure I'll want you to be there for me. But I also want Harry to help me, as well."

Zabini's mouth dropped open. "_Harry?_ Why did you just—?"

Harry shook his head. "Never mind that. Look, Zabini. We don't like each other. But he wants us both to help him, so we're going to have to find a way to work together on this."

Zabini ignored him and turned to Malfoy. "I don't understand why you want _his_ help. Don't you remember that you hate him?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't. But I have been informed by many people today that I did. I don't really care, though. He's been nothing but accommodating to me so far, so I'm sticking with him." Then he leaned in and whispered something in Zabini's ear. Whatever it was he said, it made Zabini's eyes pop out of his head.

"What the _hell?_ Draco!"

"What? It's true!"

Harry cleared his throat, feeling somewhat uncomfortable standing there beside the two Slytherins whispering who-knows-what in each others' ears. He'd had enough for one day. "All right… Now that we've got that covered, I'm just going to leave now. You can handle it, right Zabini?"

The other boy rolled his eyes. "Duh. Go away."

Malfoy turned and grinned at him. "Thanks, Harry," he said.

Harry gave him a tight smile back. "Uh, no problem. See you later, Draco."

He shook his head and walked away, heading back towards the Gryffindor common room to talk to his probably still-shocked friends. Hell, _he_ was still a bit shocked himself. Malfoy was quite a nice bloke without all the scowling and smirking, it was scary, almost. If he'd had only known that this was underneath all the little Malfoy games... He shook his head. Man, this was going to be one hell of an experience.

**~x~**

Draco followed Blaise into the Slytherin common room, glancing around in awe and taking in his surroundings. The room was decorated in Slytherin green colors, with grey brick walls and long, black tapestries covering them. There was a large fireplace crackling somewhat dismally in the centre, with two black leather couches facing each other on either side of it. And in the back there were two pairs of stairways leading up to what he supposed were the boys' and girls' dormitories. It was a lot fancier than he'd ever expected Hogwarts to be. Reminded him a bit of home, actually.

"Nice place," he commented, shivering slightly. "A little cold, though."

Blaise laughed. "You'll get used to it. Come on, I'll show you to our dorm."

Draco followed the other boy up one of the staircases and into the first room on the left. "Here we are."

It was decent sized, a place that was very much similar to Draco's own back at the Manor, which was why he figured it felt so comfortable to him. The walls were brick as they were in the common room, and there were five large, four-poster beds with forest green curtains around them. A miniature version of the common room's fireplace was burning quietly in the back. He walked over to the nearest bed that had a trunk sitting at the foot of it labeled _D.M._and tilted his head quizzically.

"So this is mine?" he asked.

Blaise nodded. "Yeah. Mine's to the left of yours, and next to me is Nott, and next to him is Goyle."

Draco frowned. "Don't know who Nott is, but I do know Goyle. He was my friend from before Hogwarts." He glanced around. "That's only four of us. Who's the fifth?"

Blaise grimaced. "That was Crabbe's," he murmured.

Draco felt an odd twist in his stomach at the tone of the other boy's voice, but didn't think to question it. "Crabbe. He was my friend, too. Where did he go?"

Blaise gave him a look that said he didn't want to talk about it. "He didn't come back this year," he responded vaguely, walking over and sitting on Draco's bed.

Draco joined him. "All right… Listen, Blaise. I don't remember anything regarding this place, so I'm not going to try and pretend that I understand a lot of what you're talking about here. I don't even remember our friendship, but I'm sure it was a good one. It was a good one, right?"

Blaise sighed. "We were as good of friends as Slytherins can be, Draco. I'm sure you're aware that us snakes aren't the most trustworthy companions. But I have to say, you and I come very close."

Draco nodded slowly, feeling a bit sad. He didn't have any true friends? He'd have to fix that. He glanced around, trying desperately to recognise something that would trigger some sort of memory for him, but he could feel nothing. Nothing felt real to him anymore. The swirl of emotions rushing through him didn't even feel real, they felt whimsical, far away, even. Like they weren't even his own.

"I'm not sure of anything right now," he muttered offhandedly, causing his friend to glance at him sharply.

Blaise patted his knee. "I'm sorry. All I can do is try to help you through this."

Draco sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, which was oddly devoid of any sort of gel at all. "The strange thing is, I'm not entirely ignorant. I know I'm 19. I know that I've had an education, I've had schooling, and that I'm here. It's just, I can't remember how I've done it. The last thing I recall is a memory from when I was 11, but it's not like I believe I'm still there as an 11 year old boy. It's as if I've fast forwarded in a blink of an eye and skipped all of the in between."

Blaise studied him for a moment. "It's as if you've gone mad," he remarked.

Draco shook his head. "But I don't feel it. When I woke up, I didn't feel like anything was off. Not until everybody told me something was off, did I realise it."

"It must be crazy for you, how we're all trying to carve out your life. I mean, it's weird for me too, because you seem completely different than you were before. I mean, you're hanging around with Potter, voluntarily!"

Draco laughed. "I know. But he doesn't seem like such a bad bloke, really. I don't know why I hated him."

"Well, you thought he was stuck up, for one. He's got a lot of fans because he's a big hero, blah, blah, blah. He's hotheaded and easy to provoke, so you loved taunting him about nearly everything. His glasses, his scar, his friends, his parents. I think you've covered it all over the years. And he had every girl yearning after him, which annoyed you to no end. But of course, that didn't matter after 5th year when you started batting for the other team, if you know what I mean."

Draco stared at him. "Um, no. What do you mean?"

Blaise grinned. "You discovered you were gay, of course."

"What? I'm not gay!"

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not!"

"Please, I've listened to enough of your stories about _excruciatingly_detailed conquests over many summers to know that yes, you are gay. Now shut up, we were talking about Potter."

Draco shook his head in disbelief. How could he not remember something as big as he was gay? And how did he discover that anyhow? Well, he knew it wasn't by being a perfect family role model, obviously. Father was going to flip when he—

Oh yeah. He was dead. Draco felt his chest tighten, and his eyelashes suddenly felt wet with unexpected tears. And so was Mother. The misery from earlier flooded through him in a flash, but he tried not to show it.

"What happened to my parents?" He blurted out suddenly. Blaise looked up at him in surprise and sympathy.

"Well, they're—"

"Yes, I know they're dead. But how?"

Blaise looked at the floor. "Well, that was what I was getting to with Potter."

"He killed them?"

"Well, no, not exactly. His side killed him."

"His side?"

"Yeah. Of the war."

Draco gaped at him. "There was a war?"

Blaise nodded, his skin turning a slightly ashy colour. "You remember the story of Harry Potter, yes?"

"Of course, he defeated the darkest wizard of all time when he was baby."

"Right. So you see, during our time here at Hogwarts, everywhere that Potter went and everything that he did seemed to spark some kind of trouble. Every year there was something else. First year, there was that troll, and some weird incident regarding Professor Quirrell. Then the next year, there was the Chamber of Secrets and the basilisk going on a rampage… and then there was the convicted murderer Sirius Black out to get him, and the Triwizard Tournament with the dragons and merpeople and all that shit—the list goes on forever, really. But the point is that he attracted a bunch of trouble."

Draco raised his eyebrows, impressed. "He survived all that?"

"Yeah. But then sometime around our 5th year, it was announced that Voldemort—the Dark Wizard—was back, and he was out to get Potter for you know, killing him but apparently not really killing him. Stupid git. Anyways, then you and your family went in support of the Dark Lord, and Potter was obviously on the opposing side. And that's when the real hatred started to kick in."

Draco was shocked. His family had been in support of the darkest wizard of all time? His family had been against Harry? He was surprised that Harry was even giving him a second look right now, if they were really as hostile towards each other as they were made out to be. And now it really was clear why all those people were staring at them in the hallway as if they'd seen a ghost. He shook his head. What a mess.

"It was all about pureblood power, you know. I even supported it for a while, just because I was in Slytherin and it was socially acceptable for us to. You were all into it, telling us all about what your father had preached to you about pureblood superiority and nonsense. I admit, it was a bad time for us."

Draco bit his lip. "Then what happened? How did the war end?"

Blaise sighed. "About a year ago, when Potter finally defeated him. Here, at Hogwarts. Don't really know how it happened, he was gone for a whole school year, and then he just showed up and fought him. I heard he was searching for something of Voldemort's, but I'm not really clear on that. You should ask him sometime. Anyway, there was a massive battle, lots of bloodshed—I don't know. I didn't participate in it, myself. See, I was technically neutral as of 6th year, but you and I were still friends, I suppose. We became better friends this year, considering us Slytherins had to stick together."

"And my parents?"

Blaise shrugged. "They were both killed in battle, to my greatest knowledge. And we're in our 8th year of school now since most 7th years were either not present or killed, and us survivors are basically getting the chance to receive our 7th year education because our studies were cut off because of the war. Well, the ones who chose to come back and receive it, anyways. Dumbledore makes sure that the rest of the population lets the Slytherins back here with as much acceptance as possible, but the first few months have been rough. We've both had our fair share of hexes and anger directed at us."

Draco frowned. "But you were neutral."

"Doesn't matter. I'm a Slytherin. To them, we were all Death Eaters."

"Wow."

Draco didn't really know what else to say. How had all that gone on and he couldn't remember a single bit of it? It was as if Blaise were telling him a fictional story, not his own life. What kind of person had he been to go off and do what he'd done? He didn't want to imagine the horrors that he had to have committed during the war, surely they would have been terrible and immoral. He shuddered, trying his hardest not to think about it. Was it possible to be afraid of yourself?

Blaise nodded. "And that's pretty much all that you need to know about the war. Potter's considered the Saviour of the Wizarding World, you know. A true celebrity. And you've steered clear of him this entire year, no taunts, nothing. Even so, I'm surprised that he's so insistent on helping you."

Draco shrugged. "He probably feels bad about the bludger thing."

"Yeah, I suppose. That looked incredibly painful."

"Didn't I fall off my broom when I got hit? The impact of a fall like that would probably be fatal."

"No, Potter caught you before you fell too far. He may be an idiot, but he's got fast reflexes."

"Oh. Well, that's good."

Draco paused, thinking back to what Blaise had informed him of earlier about his sexuality. Then he frowned, wondering why it didn't bother him all that much. He'd always thought that he'd grow up and marry some beautiful girl to keep up the proud Malfoy line. He'd imagined a life where he'd take his father's place as the Head of the Family and teach his children the same lessons that he'd been taught as a child. But he supposed that it clearly hadn't worked the first time around, and besides, it didn't really matter anyways. Being gay wasn't a big deal.

"So I haven't had a girlfriend since I figured out I was... not straight."

Blaise shook his head. "Nope."

"Boyfriend?"

"No way. You were a one night stand kind of man."

"That is lovely."

"Guess that explains a lot, doesn't it? Like why you felt the need to tell me that you thought Potter was 'fit'?"

Draco laughed. "Yeah, I hadn't known where that came from, surprised me just as much as you. Glad to know that I probably thought that before the accident too, so I'm not just touched in the head... well, not metaphorically, at least. But it's true. He is cute."

Blaise scrunched his nose up in disgust. "Yeah, thanks for the mental images now. And I wouldn't say you're completely untouched, but yes, I suppose he is all right, for a scrawny little hero boy. You're lucky he didn't hear you, though. He probably would've punched you in the face for that."

"He's straight?"

"As a board. His girlfriend is Ginevra Weasley."

Draco frowned. "Weasley? As in the redhead family?"

"Yeah, the one you hated and still hate, for the record."

"Not for the same reasons, I presume?"

"No, you just hate them. A bit of a habit, I guess. We don't really talk about the whole pureblood thing anymore, as it's obviously a bit of a touchy subject, you know."

Draco bit his lip to keep from giggling, which he didn't believe would be a very Slytherin thing for him to do. "Well, I think I'm going to hate her for dating him."

"Ew. You're not going to develop some sort of crush on him, are you? Because only sappy little teenage girls have crushes on Harry Potter."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I may not remember much, but I know that I, Draco Malfoy, am not sappy, little, or a girl. I am a teenager though, so that criteria counts for something." The other boy gave him a disgusted look, so he laughed. "I'm kidding, all right? Just because I think he's fit doesn't mean that I'm going to start hanging all over him. Honestly."

Blaise sighed in relief. "Good. Don't want you to get all Gryffindor on me."

Draco smiled. "Of course not, Blaise."

If only he could remember how one could possibly get 'all Gryffindor' on somebody else.

**Author's Note: Okay, so that was _long_. What do you think so far? I'm not quite sure about the title of this yet, so I'm just using something temporary for now. If any of you have suggestions about what to call it, or if I should just keep the temporary name, you can let me know… by reviewing ;)**

… **Was that subtle enough? Asking for reviews? Ah well, I tried.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Thank you all for your kind reviews! I received more than I had expected to for the first chapter in one day, so you guys are awesome. And that's why I decided to write the next one for you now. As a big giant thank you and I love you. No joke. I LOVE YOU. And yes, in a totally creepy way.**

Chapter 2

Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead tiredly as he tried to explain the situation for the _billionth time_ to his friends. This was getting ridiculous. Merlin, he knew it'd be tough, but he didn't know that he was going to be grilled like a criminal! What was so strange about him walking down the corridor with the boy whom he had shared a mutual loathing with holding onto his arm, anyhow? Honestly.

"I _told _you, it's because he's lost his memory!"

Hermione shook her head. "But how is it that he can remember things from when he was young, but not when he was at Hogwarts?"

"I… don't… _know_."

"And why does that mean you have to help the stupid git," Ron muttered, glaring at nobody in particular.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose impatiently. "I know you don't like him Ron, and I don't like him either, but I feel obligated to do something. I mean, I'm the reason why the bloody prat can't even remember that he hates me! I can't just sit here!"

"Why not?"

"Be-_fucking_-cause!" Harry roared, causing many students to turn and stare at him. He gazed back at them in fierce challenge, and most of them looked away.

Hermione gave him a stern look, and he wilted involuntarily. "Harry! Stop acting like a child. We're in the library," she scolded.

Harry rolled his eyes. Bloody friends trying to bloody annoy him to death. Gods. Times like these made him actually wish he could spend more time with Malfoy, which was unbelievable. No matter how tolerable the Slytherin boy had been recently, his best friends should be the ones to make things easier, not drive him mad with stupid questions.

"I know, okay? Can't you guys just accept that I'm going to help Malfoy and then be quiet? I mean, really. It's not that difficult."

"Fine. Merlin, you don't have to be so bloody nasty about it," Ron retorted.

Hermione just shot him a wounded look.

Harry sighed and shook his head. His temper had been flaring up ever since the whole incident had started, and now it had gotten a million times worse with Malfoy's questionable condition. And to top it all off, the stress of the chaos was threatening to give him a Voldemort-sized headache. But he didn't want to take it out on his friends, no matter how much they were bugging him at the moment.

"You know, you're right. I'm sorry. It's just—I feel so damn terrible about the whole thing. Malfoy's got no idea who he is and it's all my fault."

Ron patted his shoulder sympathetically. "I know it's rough but you can fix it, mate. You can do anything." His blue eyes lit up as he thought of something and he grinned. "But hey, look on the bright side. At least you knocked some compassion into the evil ferret." He laughed. "Get it? I mean _literally_ knocked—"

"Yeah I get it, Ron. Ha, ha," Harry deadpanned.

Hermione pursed her lips. "Just try to be careful, okay Harry?"

"Be careful about what?"

"If Malfoy suddenly regains his memory..."

Harry took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "Don't worry, Mione. I've been able to handle him for years now. If he shows any signs of malice, I'll turn right around and beat his arse. Just because I'm helping him, doesn't mean I've got to like him."

"Like who?"

Harry turned around and spotted Malfoy coming up to their table, having appeared from behind one of the bookcases and sliding into a seat next to Ron. The redhead grimaced and shifted away a bit. The blond looked at him expectantly.

_Shit. Hurry! Make something up! _"Um, Snape," Harry muttered, shooting him a weak smile. He almost rolled his eyes at himself. _Yeah, that was brilliant. _

But Malfoy hadn't seemed to pick up on his lame excuse. The boy just glanced at Ron and Hermione with an uncertain expression crossing his normally pointy face, and it was then that Harry realised the magnitude of Malfoy's problem. He had no idea who these people were. They were strangers. They were strangers that he had taunted and tortured for years but had no recollection of doing so. Strangers with whom he'd undoubtedly shared memories with but couldn't remember. And those were the memories that helped him build on who he was. Without them, without these strangers… _Malfoy _was a stranger. To himself.

Harry shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and remember where he was. "Uh, sorry. I realise I didn't properly introduce you," he said. "This is Hermione."

Malfoy held out his hand towards her. "Hi, I'm Draco."

Hermione looked surprised, but took his hand and shook it anyway. "Hello, Draco."

Harry smiled. Then he took a deep breath and prayed to Merlin that shit was _not_ about to go down. "And this is Ron."

Malfoy held out a hand towards him, too. "Hello, Ron."

Ron just stared at him. He coughed. He looked at his hands. He drummed on the table. He played with the fraying ends of his sleeves. He fiddled with the cover of the book in front of him. Anything but look at or accept Malfoy's hand, which was still being offered out to him patiently. Finally, after a long and uncomfortable pause, he gurgled something incompetently and looked away. The rest of the table stared at him with mixed expressions of disbelief and weirded out looks.

Harry rolled his eyes. Well, it was a good try, anyways. He had known from the beginning that Ron would be the one who would have the most trouble adjusting to the new situation. He tried to amend the awkward moment by staying lighthearted. "Yeah, so these are my friends. Aren't they both charming?"

He let out a sigh of relief as Malfoy laughed and the tension left the table. The Slytherin boy didn't seem put off by Ron's awkwardness in the slightest.

"Fantastic. They aren't so bad, after all." Then Draco looked at Hermione in explanation. "Harry says that if I'm to be hanging around him, I'll also have to put up with you guys. But I don't think I'll mind all that much, since you seem quite civil."

Hermione giggled, somewhat apprehensively. "Um, yes. Thank you. I suppose that we will be spending more time together then."

Malfoy tilted his head in speculation. "But doesn't that mean that you will have to put up with my friends too, since you'll all be hanging around _me_? I've only met a few of them, but I don't reckon they'd be quite as charming."

Harry snorted and Ron looked horrified.

**~x~**

Draco glanced around warily, observing the students around him setting up their stations for the potion they were to brew today. But to be honest, he had no idea what on earth had been going on for the past 20 minutes since class had begun. Uncle Severus—well, Professor Snape—had given quite detailed instructions on what it was that they were making, but Draco couldn't seem to focus on anything, really. He hadn't been focused on anything since he'd woken up. He supposed it was probably one of the downsides of being brutally attacked by a bludger.

He sighed, tracing light, random circles on the table in front of him. If only he could remember what it was like being mauled by a bludger. It would probably be quite the story to tell. Draco thought back to when he'd visited Uncle—er, Professor Snape the previous night, and the man had wondered if Draco could possibly be more heavily affected by the memory loss. Draco didn't really know what to make of that statement. How much more could he be affected? He couldn't remember a single thing. Like why this instruction sheet was so tricky to interpret, for instance. He glared at it in frustration. Harry had told him that he'd been exceptionally brilliant at the subject, but he just couldn't seem to recall anything about it. Well, not unless somebody mentioned a very specific topic. Then, the answers just seemed to flood back to him. It was incredibly strange, and he preferred not to get into it too much.

_Speaking of Harry…_ he glanced over at the pantry, where the boy was supposed to be getting supplies, frowning. What was taking him so long?

As he waited, Professor Snape suddenly appeared before him, a look of slight uneasiness that only Draco could detect cleverly masked by bored indifference. "Mr. Malfoy, did you understand today's lecture enough to complete the assignment, or might you need extra assistance?"

Draco shrugged. "I'm all right, sir. I think. I mean, I can remember bits and pieces. Like, I've never seen this thing before," he pointed to an odd-looking plant, "but somehow I know that it's a Gurdyroot. I'll be fine. Plus, Harry will help me."

Professor Snape snorted. As he walked away, Draco thought he heard him scoff, "Yeah, he'll help you. Right off a cliff, he'll help you."

He shook his head. He didn't know what that meant, but whatever. Harry had promised to help him, and he would. Wouldn't he? Though, Harry had never quite mentioned whether or not he was even good at Potions in the first place... Draco looked up just as Harry was coming back with an armful of jars and roots.

"Here. I think I've got all the ingredients," Harry mumbled, somewhat awkwardly, setting his pile down on the table. "Do you have the instructions?"

Draco nodded. "Yeah, here." As he watched Harry sort out his things on the table, a thought popped up into his head and he leaned back against the work table, trying to appear casual. "So, I hear you've got a girlfriend."

Harry stopped rearranging things and turned to look at him with a curious expression on his face. "Erm, yeah. I do."

"Ginevra, is it not?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Ginny. But you usually don't call her that, though."

"What do I call her?"

"Uh, never mind. But yes, Ginny's my girlfriend."

Draco felt a pang of jealousy in his chest and turned away a bit, absently beginning to rearrange the ingredients himself. "That's nice. Sort of. Not really."

Harry gave him an amused look. "Oh? And why is it not really?"

Draco smiled innocently. "I don't know…"

He bit his lip and dropped his gaze to Harry's mouth for a moment, before looking up into his eyes again and taking in his tanned appearance. Merlin, what a face. The boy was watching Draco's movements with an easy grin on his lips, his eyes shining bright with mirth and his arms crossed, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal pretty, golden skin. Draco sighed. How could he have once hated this boy? He was adorable!

"She just doesn't seem like your type."

Harry chuckled tensely. "Um… I have a type?"

Draco was just about to reply, before suddenly the classroom disappeared around him. He widened his eyes as his surroundings changed to what he recognised as Flourish & Blott's, the small bookstore in Diagon Alley. He turned to ask Harry if this normally happened during Potions class, but didn't find him there. Instead, there was a small boy who resembled him very closely. But as Draco inspected him further, he realised that it _was_ Harry. A very young Harry. It had to be. The boy had the same thin frame, that disheveled raven-coloured mane, and those dazzling green eyes almost hidden behind wide-rimmed glasses. The only difference was the unfamiliarly cold, hard glare that he wore.

Draco glanced around, only to discover that the boy's angry gaze was directed at _him_. He stared back in puzzlement. Why was Harry looking at him like that? He had never seen that fierce expression mar the smooth features of the other boy's face before… had he?

Harry's voice was like ice as he practically spat at him. "Malfoy."

Draco shrunk back at his sharp tone. He wanted to ask Harry why he was looking and acting like this, but his mouth apparently other ideas. "Potter," he sneered back, unable to stop his face from twisting into an expression of abhorrence as he said it. What? He almost stepped back in surprise. Why couldn't he control what he was doing?

"What a pleasure to see you shopping around with all us commoners," Harry told him, a sarcastic lilt replacing his normally sweet voice.

"The pleasure would have been mine had I never arrived here. I'll have to go elsewhere, seeing as vermin like you has polluted it." He glanced behind Harry at a large group of redheads who were all glowering at him as well.

"And if I had previously known that the ginger mutt family shopped here, I'd have avoided it like the vile plague that they are," he jeered again. Draco wanted to slap a hand over his mouth and shut himself up, but he couldn't. What was he _saying_?

Harry's impossibly green eyes narrowed. "Shut up, Malfoy. You don't know anything about them!"

Draco, helpless, felt his mouth curve up into a smirk. "Aw, defending your precious Weasel family, are you? A lowly little replacement for your dead mum and dad, eh, Potter?"

"Leave him alone!"

Draco's eyes flicked down to see a thin, redheaded girl glaring up at him for all she was worth. That had to be Ginny Weasley. Her brown eyes shone with blazing emotion and a fire that he hadn't expected out of such a small girl, and he felt the need to step back to protect himself. But of course, he didn't.

A cruel laugh escaped his throat without warning, instead. "Oh look, Potter! You've got yourself a girlfriend," he leered, with another smirk at Harry.

At that moment, Draco's father swept up behind him. "Come now, Draco. We're finished here."

He gaped at him. Why was his father here? Wasn't he dead? Was this some kind of sick joke? He turned to look at Harry again, whose green eyes pierced his with a jolt of pure, intense hatred. It was as if they had trapped him there, hypnotising him and making him unable to move or look away as the scene around them started to shift rapidly. He felt the room spiraling at full speed, and all that was constant were those glowing emeralds burning holes into his sockets. When he finally had the strength to tear his gaze away from them, the room had stopped spinning and he could see Harry clearly again. But it was normal Harry, whose eyes were not filled with contempt, but tremendous alarm.

"Draco?_ Draco!_"

Draco rubbed his eyes and looked around in disbelief. The spinning and Harry's eyes had led him back to the Potions classroom. But where did Flourish & Blott's go? Young Harry? His father? What the hell was going on here?

"What happened?" he murmured, utterly perplexed.

"You were... in a trance, or something. You were out for a good five minutes. Are you okay?" Harry put a hand on his shoulder.

Draco looked down at Harry's hand and without thinking, batted it away with a glare. "Don't touch me, Potter!" he screeched. Harry recoiled in shock as Draco gasped and shook his head. "No, no, wait. I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from, I don't know—"

He dropped his face in his hands, still shaking his head. What had just happened? Had he been dreaming when he fainted? It was so vivid, as if it had once happened. But how could it have? He couldn't remember anything. Couldn't he? His head was throbbing as he recalled the way Harry glowered at him, the way his eyes flashed with loathing. He knew that they had once hated each other, but that look—it was more hate. It was a deep, fathomless, to the very core revulsion. It said _I wish you never existed_. And that terrified him more than anything else in the world. _That wasn't real. It couldn't have been_. He glanced up at Harry, who was still watching him with a worried look. _Who is Harry Potter: the caring, concerned boy or the hateful, disgusted one?_ Then he looked down at his own hands, which had started to shake violently._ And who _was_ Draco Malfoy to begin with?_

Draco shook his head once more, before grabbing his book bag off the chair. "I've got to go," he mumbled, not stopping to wait for a reply or approval. He sprinted out of the classroom and didn't stop until he was buried deep within the covers of his bed.

**~x~**

"I don't know, Hermione," Harry sighed as he slouched down onto one of the couches in the Gryffindor common room. "One minute we were having a conversation, and the next he was out like a light. I tried shaking him and slapping him and poking him, but nothing worked. I was about to fetch Snape when suddenly he woke up, only he was all confused and he looked at me as if he'd seen a ghost. After that he was rocking back and forth for a bit before bolting out of the room."

Hermione frowned deeply. "You don't think it could be some side effect of suffering from a rare concussion, do you?"

"I don't know. But whatever it was, it was weird. When he came to again, he looked at me as if I had just personally murdered his favorite owl. And when I touched his shoulder to comfort him, he yelled 'don't touch me Potter', but then got all horrified with himself for saying it and started apologising a bunch. Before he apologised though, it was kinda like old times—"

Hermione got a strange look on her face. "Old times, you say?"

"Yeah... Like how he would act if we were dueling or something."

She bit her lip. "What if… what if he had a flashback?"

"Of what?"

She turned to face him. "Like, of a bad memory. That had to do with you."

"Well, I'm sure there were lots of those, but—"

"What were you talking about before it happened?"

Harry thought back for a moment. "Um… we were talking about Ginny."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Ginny? Why?"

Harry shrugged. "He brought up how I was dating her."

Hermione made a 'hmm' noise. She gazed into the fireplace for a while in silence, and Harry let her. She was in assessment mode. Finally, she spoke up again. "That conversation must have had some sort of trigger on his memory. Do you think you could talk to him about it?"

Harry gave her a look. "He was pretty shaken up about it. I don't know if I should."

"This is important, Harry. If you talk to him, maybe it can help cure him."

Harry sat back and sighed. He wanted to, he really did. But he was walking on eggshells with Malfoy as it was already. Or at least, it felt like it. He never knew when the other boy could crack. So what if Malfoy suddenly hated him for asking? What if he pushed him away and didn't let him help him anymore? He shook his head at his ridiculous fears. Why did _he_ have any reason to be scared? Malfoy was the one going through this nightmare.

He thought back to the way Malfoy had reacted to Harry touching him. He couldn't stop watching that terrible,_ familiar_ expression play over and over in his brain. It was as if the old Malfoy had made a swift reappearance and then disappeared just as quickly. Harry saw the internal battle in the other boy's grey eyes—the naïve, confused Malfoy warring with the bitter, angry one. Whether the blond had been aware of that battle going on inside of him, Harry didn't know. All he truly knew was that horrified look on Malfoy's face before he ran out of the room. It was as if he were not only frightened of Harry, but of _himself _as well. He had to get to the bottom of this, only to know if the other boy was okay. Harry shook his head, trying not to wonder when it had become important to him to make sure that Malfoy was okay.

"I'm going to go talk to him," he said, getting up suddenly, his decision made.

Hermione looked around. "But he's in Slytherin now. Can't you wait until dinner?"

Harry bit his lip. "No. I have to speak with him now." He pulled out his wand and summoned his invisibility cloak from his dorm. It came flying towards him and he caught it with one hand and stuffed it into his pocket. "You don't happen to know the Slytherin password, do you?"

Hermione sighed. "You know I don't like giving it to you."

"Please? It's for a good cause this time."

"You won't tell Ron for future pranks?"

"Erm…"

"Harry!"

"Fine, I won't. What is it?"

"Unicorn blood."

Harry rolled his eyes and headed for the portrait hole. "Original."

Hermione gave him a tiny half-smile. "Like I said before, be careful Harry. You never know."

He nodded at her. This time, Harry wasn't inclined to tell her not to worry.

**~x~**

Harry checked his map to make sure that Malfoy was in Slytherin and sure enough, he was in his dorm. He stashed it away in his pocket and hurried his way down to the dungeons, making sure to take the lesser-used corridors. Once he was close enough to see the portrait hole, he ducked into an alcove and threw the invisibility cloak over his head. Then, he checked his surroundings for passing students and finding the coast clear, snuck over to the entrance. He whispered the password and the door swung open to an almost empty common room. Zabini and Nott were sitting together on the couch facing the portrait, and they both looked over as Harry entered and snuck inside.

Zabini frowned. "Who just came in?"

Nott got up and checked the doorway. "There's nobody here."

They both looked around in confusion and Harry waited by one of the staircases with baited breath. Zabini shrugged. "Oh, well. Stupid portrait just opens whenever it fancies to."

"Yeah. So what were you saying about Draco?"

Zabini glanced around and his voice grew so soft that Harry had to strain to hear him. "He won't come out of the dorm. I've tried talking to him, but he just sits there with this strange, blank expression. It's really starting to scare me."

"Is it the accident?"

"I'm not sure. He's pretty upset over something, though. Goyle snuck into the kitchens and snatched some of Draco's favourites but he won't take them, and now Goyle's all upset too. I'm afraid everybody will lose their minds if he just sits there like that. I know I'm getting close."

Nott sighed. "Well, why don't you ask Potter to come help him? Isn't that his job, too?"

Zabini wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I doubt there's anything that Potter could do."

"Who knows? It's Potter. The prat can do just about anything."

"Ugh. As much as I hate to admit it, that's unfortunately much too true. I just don't know how to ask him without sounding like a prat myself."

Harry tried not to laugh out loud. Slytherins and their dumb pride. It's a wonder how they ever got by in life all alone. Well, if Zabini was too proud to ask for help, Harry had no problem with just butting in and doing it anyways. It was what he was good at, honestly. He took off the cloak and stepped towards them.

"Hey guys, what's up?"

The two boys turned around and Nott's eyes bugged out of his smallish head.

"_Potter?_ How did you get in here?"

Harry smiled and motioned towards the portrait hole. "Same as you. Did you really think that the door just opened by itself? Come on, that's not very Slytherin of you."

Zabini's mouth hung open in astonishment. "Did you just hear—?"

"Yeah, I did. And I'm glad you think so highly of me, Zabini. By the way, that's a good look on you. Really brings out your best features."

Zabini immediately stopped gaping and glared at him. "Well? Are you going to go talk to him or not?"

Harry pretended to ponder over it. "I don't know…"

"Fucking talk to him, Potter! Or I swear, I will_ kill_ you_._"

Harry grinned. "Well, since you asked so nicely." He winked at them and stuffed his cloak in his robes as he headed towards the boys' dormitories. Glancing at his map one more time, he saw that Malfoy was still in his bed. He cautiously pushed open the door to the dorm.

"Malfoy?"

He searched around the room until he found a bed with Malfoy's blond hair peeping out from the tops of the covers. He sighed and walked over to sit on the bed next to him. "Hey, Draco. Are you awake?" He pushed back the bed sheets to find the boy's eyes slid shut. He was sleeping. Harry sighed and bit his lip, not knowing what to do. Should he let Malfoy sleep? He looked too peaceful to wake. He decided to wait until the Slytherin woke up to have their much-needed discussion. This way he would have more time to think out what he was going to say in the first place.

Harry leaned over, studying the smoothness of Malfoy's face and listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing. He brought his fingers up to brush a few strands of hair away from Malfoy's forehead, and the other boy's mouth curved up in a small smile at his touch. Harry smiled back at him, forgetting that he was asleep and that he could not see it.

"You're pretty when you sleep," he murmured, letting his fingers trail lightly down the silken skin of Malfoy's cheek. He absently wondered how he had never known that such a beautiful face had been masked by the cool indifference Malfoy used to wear. And Merlin, what gorgeous skin he had. Harry immediately felt a bit jealous, his hand flying up to rub the slightly rough feel of his jaw before finding its way back to Malfoy's.

Suddenly, Malfoy began to stir and Harry whipped the hand away from the boy's face as if burned. Malfoy opened his grey eyes drowsily and for a moment, Harry saw a flash of panic in them before they settled back to normal.

"Harry. What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice groggy from sleep.

"Need to talk to you," Harry replied, still thinking about that brief look Malfoy had just given him. It worried him.

"Hmm. Were you just touching my face?"

That made Harry pay attention. He looked away, trying not to blush. "What? No, pfft. No. I would never do that, that's weird."

Malfoy smiled a little. "So that wasn't you," he remarked. Harry felt a warm affection go through him for the other boy, which was different. He'd certainly never felt _that_ for the devious Slytherin before. He reached out and ran his finger along Malfoy's jaw line again, tracing the muscles as they tensed from his touch.

"Did it feel like that?"

"Mm-hm."

Harry laughed and retreated his hand. "Nope, that definitely wasn't me."

Malfoy chuckled too and turned his head to look at him. "So what do you need to talk to me about?"

Harry chewed on his lip anxiously. He really didn't want to ask the other boy about it. Maybe he could draw it out a bit more, because he really didn't have much time to plan what he was going to say earlier. Granted, he had gotten a bit distracted by Malfoy's flawless skin, but still. The point was that he was completely at a loss for words now. And also, he would be perfectly content to just sit here all night and trace swirly patterns on Malfoy's face.

"We don't have to talk about it right now. We can just hang out, if you'd like."

Malfoy smiled strangely. "It's about this afternoon, isn't it? In Potions."

Harry sighed and nodded. "I just want to understand so I can help you," he confessed.

"Yeah. I know you do." He studied Harry's face searchingly. "But why? How come you want to help me?"

"Well, I feel bad about—"

"Don't give me that. You hate me. Don't say that you don't. I'm still the same Draco Malfoy, you know, it's not like I'm a completely changed person from before. It's still me. So, you hate me. As in, present tense. So why the hell would you want to get involved with this?"

Harry struggled to come up with a response to that. He rarely even knew why he was doing it himself. All he knew was that he was following his gut instinct, and he was pretty damn good at doing that. It was in his nature. He could only say what he knew, and what he knew wasn't very much. Finally, he answered in the most honest way he could possibly think of. "I don't hate you, Draco. I just don't understand you."

"But you used to hate me. Did you not understand me then, either?"

"I… I don't know." And that was honest again.

Malfoy shook his head and looked away. "But then again, if what I saw were true I would've hated me, too."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"When I passed out, I had… I had a dream, of some sort," Malfoy paused, as if concentrating on remembering it clearly. "I was in a bookstore. Flourish & Blott's, to be exact. And you were there, except you were very young, and very angry. We started quarreling, and Ginny Weasley came up to me and began chastising me for speaking to you that way."

Harry stomach churned unpleasantly, and a feeling of dread passed through his chest. This was all too familiar to him as well, it couldn't have just been a dream of Malfoy's... but why was it so familiar? He couldn't put his finger on it, but he was starting to get the feeling that Hermione was right. Yet again. This was clearly not just a random dream. He had an idea of what it was, but he really hoped it wasn't that, because that was _beyond_ weird. He tried it anyways.

"Did you say, 'Oh look, Potter! You've got yourself a girlfriend'?"

Malfoy turned to him slowly, his mouth forming a round 'o'. "How did you know that?" he whispered, a hint of fear in his voice.

Harry looked down at his lap. Shit. This was worse than he'd thought.

"That was a _memory_ of us. Right before our 2nd year."

Malfoy was quiet. He stared at his hands for a long time, as if he'd never seen them before. "Your eyes…" he murmured, finally.

Harry was confused. "My eyes?"

Malfoy turned to look at him. "Your eyes. They're constant. They were so green back then, and they're so green right now."

"They were?"

Malfoy nodded. "It was like somehow, they led me back. To reality, I mean. But it was confusing because you had the same eyes, so I wasn't sure whether or not I was back yet, or even if I had gone in the first place. It was sort of frightening and perplexing, at the same time."

"Oh."

Harry didn't really know what else to say. He had never really thought of his eyes as anything special or complex before, or that Malfoy even noticed that kind of thing. Had that been a compliment just then? The two of them were hushed for another long while, neither boy moving or making a sound.

"Is that really how I used to be?" Malfoy asked, breaking the silence again.

"What?"

"In that… that memory. Was that who I was?"

Harry hesitated, not really wanting to tell him straightforward that _yes,_ he had been a snarky little pureblooded prat, but knowing that there was only one way to put it. Besides, he couldn't give Malfoy some kind of censored version of his own life, that was just wrong. It's not like he cared too much about what Malfoy would think of himself when he heard the full story, anyway. To be honest, he sort of wished the boy would feel guilty for the way he'd been. So he decided to just go for it. In the nicest way possible, of course.

"Well truthfully, what you saw there was Draco Malfoy in a good mood. And as the years went on, your mood never really improved."

Malfoy paled. "I was worse than _that?_" Harry closed his eyes and nodded. The blond took a deep, shuddering breath in order to calm himself or something.

"So let me get this straight: I was a total shithead who turned into even more of a shithead as I got older."

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Brilliant. And now I'm having flashbacks. But not flashbacks that I know are flashbacks. I've officially gone insane."

Harry opened his eyes and looked at him sharply. "Flashbacks that you don't know are flashbacks? What do you mean?"

"I mean, I thought that it was a dream, not a memory. It felt like one. It still doesn't feel like it fits into my life, even though I don't know exactly what my life is, or was. It's not connecting in any way. I have nothing to connect me to my past, even with my flashbacks."

"It's as if you have to experience them all a second time."

Malfoy nodded. "Without the strength of my sanity to guide me."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "You're going to need a lot more help than I thought you did."

Malfoy bit his lip. "But you'll still be there to give it, won't you?"

Harry observed his face, all scrunched up with worry that Harry wouldn't be there for him. Two weeks ago, Harry wouldn't have given a flying fuck about what happened to Draco Malfoy. Two weeks ago, he would have said 'hell no' and walked out without a stitch of shame. But now, he realised that there was no way he could refuse. He could never give up now, now that Malfoy had put all this trust and faith into him, no matter how twisted or awful the Slytherin turned out to be. This was something that Harry had to be prepared to dive into and never look back. Could he do that?

He nodded slowly, despite his conflicted feelings. He was a Gryffindor, after all. "Yes."

Malfoy held out his pinky earnestly. "Pinky promise?"

Something about the way Malfoy's eyes glimmered with hope made his decision for him. Harry grinned and hooked his pinky onto the other boy's.

"Pinky promise," he repeated firmly.

**Author's Note: Guys, I've discovered that I write better in the middle of the night. It's 4:30am right now, and this is my 3rd draft. Everything I write before 10pm is complete shit. **

**So what do you guys think so far? Is it confusing? I have to admit, it's a bit confusing to write. More intense that anything I've written before, too. I don't really know how I feel about this chapter. Oh, and I made a Parent Trap reference somewhere in there. Sort of. I mean, I tried. It's the Lindsay Lohan Parent Trap, not the older one… all right? I hope something in this long, mundane a/n has given you the urge to review… and if it hasn't than I strongly urge you to review in an offensively blunt manner. I should've written this at the beginning because I don't think you'll read up to here. I wouldn't have! I'm going to stop rambling now. Until next time xoxo **


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Hi all! I'm having such a great time thinking up ways to go about this. I've got the ending planned out, but the rest is still up in the air. I'm excited! **

Chapter 3

Draco wandered behind Blaise as they entered the Great Hall for breakfast. He stared at the large, decorative room that was rapidly filling up with hungry students, quite impressed. There were many rooms that he had yet to visit in the castle, and this had been one of them up to this point. He'd only been in the Hospital Wing, a few of his classes, Slytherin, and the corridors leading to Slytherin. And boy, this was certainly a sight to see. Hogwarts was just as wonderful as he ever imagined it as a child. He felt a small sense of sadness knowing that he'd gone here for so many years but couldn't remember a speck of it.

Blaise glanced back at him and grinned. "You should see your face right now. It's like first year all over again."

"Is this how it was back then? Being here for the first time?" Draco asked, still gazing around at the surrounding tables.

Blaise studied his face for a moment and nodded. "Your expression indicates exactly how _I_ had felt when we first arrived, so yes, I presume it was the same for you."

"Interesting."

Blaise led him towards the table farthest from the doors with all of his Slytherin classmates. Some of them nodded at him tentatively and most of them just stared. Draco sighed. Blaise had said that they were still getting used to the new Draco Malfoy. It was odd, to say the least. What had been so different about him? Apparently, people used to be afraid of him or something. He couldn't imagine what it was that he could have possibly done to make these people quiver in their seats like that. And from his own House, for Merlin's sake!

Draco sat down in the seat that Blaise directed him to, which faced the rest of the House tables and gave him a fantastic view of everything. Blaise explained that he used to sit that way so that he could observe Harry and plot which prank he would play next on the boy. It was bizarre, really. His old self seemed absolutely ridiculous. Who does that sort of thing, anyways, who didn't either have a crush or an obsession? He now caught sight of Harry, who had just arrived in the Hall with a tall, lean girl sporting long red hair, with Hermione and Ron trailing not far behind.

Draco quirked an eyebrow as he watched the redhead link hands with Harry.

_That must be Ginny. _

Draco remembered the tiny, thin girl glaring up at him in his vision and immediately felt a rush of dislike go through him for her. What did he see in her, anyways? She giggled when Harry pulled her close and Draco's eyes narrowed.

_She isn't even that pretty. And her figure obviously hasn't changed much from 2__nd__ year._

He shook his head in an attempt to clear it of the uncouth thought. Where had _that_ come from?

When Draco looked up again, Harry was watching him. The other boy locked eyes with him and jerked his head a bit, as if motioning him to come over there. Draco glanced around to make sure that the other boy was referring to him, and indeed, he was. What did he want? Draco sighed and got up out of his seat.

"Be right back," he murmured to Blaise. The other boy just nodded.

Draco walked over to what he supposed was the Gryffindor table and some of the occupants watched him curiously, as if waiting for him to snap at them or something. And it was then that he realised that essentially the entire school was watching him make his way over to the rival House table. What, was this some kind of social event or something? People weren't allowed to make friendly House calls? Obviously, Draco Malfoy wasn't. He ignored all of them anyways and kept walking until he reached his destination.

"You wanted to see me?"

Harry glanced up at him and nodded. "Yeah. I want you to meet someone."

Draco stared at the redheaded girl, who was staring at him, too. The rush of dislike was back.

"Her?"

"Uh huh. This is—"

"I know who she is," Draco blurted out. "That's Ginny."

The girl looked surprised. "You already know who I am?"

"Yes. I saw you in my vision."

"…Your vision?"

"That's what I said."

Ginny frowned and glanced at Harry uncertainly. The boy shrugged.

"It's some kind of side effect from the accident," he explained.

"Ah," she said, not looking like she understood at all. She turned back to Draco and eyed him warily. He stared right back. "So what else do you know about me, Malfoy?"

"I know that you are related to Harry's friend Ron. I know that you used to be quite stubby."

_And still are, _he added as an afterthought, in his mind. Draco paused for a moment, then narrowed his eyes.

"And I know that you're dating Harry," he finished tautly.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Do you, now?"

Draco just frowned and scrutinised her appearance some more. From up close, he supposed that some might believe that she was sort of okay-looking. She had those clear brown eyes and her hair was very sleek and shiny and her sense of style was not _so _bad considering her meager background. But she was certainly not good enough for Harry Potter, of course. Harry deserved so much better. Draco glowered at her hand, which was still entwined with Harry's.

_Not fair._

He heard someone clear their throat and looked up to find Harry gazing at him questioningly.

"Draco, can I speak to you for a minute? In private."

Draco raised his eyebrows, but nodded anyway. _What on earth did he want to talk about now? Dinner was just about to start_.

Harry stood up and began walking over towards the door, so Draco followed him silently, still wondering what it was that Harry needed to say that was so urgent it couldn't wait until after dinner. Once they were outside, Harry turned around and faced him. He looked annoyed, and his dark brows furrowed slightly.

"Why were you acting like that to Ginny?"

_Damn it. He noticed._

Draco widened his eyes innocently. "Whatever do you mean, Harry?"

"I mean, why were you glaring at her like she stole your favourite quill?"

"I was so _not_ glaring!"

_Ha. I was so glaring. _

Harry made a huffing noise. "Yes, you were! And it was rude, Draco. Just like something your old self might do."

Draco felt a bit offended by that. He didn't quite like being compared to his old self, especially after all the negative feedback he got regarding it. "Hey! By the way everybody's been describing me, it seems as if I had been personally responsible for killing everyone's cat. I didn't kill her cat, let alone hex her or anything. I think I was being perfectly civil!"

Yeah, if 'perfectly civil' means cold responses and awkward silences." Harry paused for a moment and folded his arms across his chest in a way that Draco guessed was supposed to look intimidating or something. "Which it doesn't."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Whatever. It's not even a big deal. It's not like she's _my_ girlfriend, or anything."

Harry narrowed his lovely eyes in warning. "You should go apologise to her, because she's _my_ girlfriend, and therefore you're supposed to be nice to her. And besides, I thought you wouldn't know who she was. How did you know?"

"I told you, from my vision."

"But she looks nothing like she did back then."

Draco snorted. "She actually looks quite similar. She's still got that masculine build, if you ask me."

Harry looked upset at that. "I didn't ask you."

"I'm just saying."

Harry looked at Draco for a long time, his eyebrows knitted together as he inspected him. Then he shook his head.

"It'd be a shame to see you go back to the way you were," he muttered, before heading back into the Great Hall.

Draco watched him go in distress. Oh, dear. Harry wasn't happy with him. He leaned back onto the stone wall and sighed. Was his old self really that awful? Everybody seemed to hate him. Draco was starting to become very wary of his old self. Uncle Severus promised that he would find a cure, but Draco wasn't so sure he wanted one. He didn't know if he could bear going back to being the person that he was, knowing that that person was quite unlikable. He shook his head and sighed again. Oh, well. He'd apologise to Harry later. And maybe Ginny, if he was in a good mood. He headed back into the Great Hall to his seat at the Slytherin table to eat. He was starving.

**~x~**

Harry leaned back into a couch by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room and sighed in contentment. Today had been an especially grueling day of classes, and he was glad that it was almost the weekend. All he wanted to do was relax, sleep, and maybe lounge around a bit out in the courtyard. And since the weather was supposed to be quite nice for the next few days, he'd get to go outside a lot. He couldn't wait to lie on the grass or hang out by the lake with Ron and Hermione. They hadn't gotten to spend a lot of time together lately since he had changed his class schedule to Malfoy's, and he missed his best friends. Harry looked up and smiled at them as they sat down on the couch opposite from him.

"Hey, guys."

"Hello," Hermione greeted.

Ron shot him a huge grin. "Hey Harry, did you know that it's Hogsmeade weekend? Merlin, I can't wait to visit Honeydukes. Mum hasn't been sending me or Gin much lately and my stock is low."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't you ever get tired of eating, Ronald?"

Ron looked baffled. "What kind of bloody question is that?" He shrunk back as the girl gave him a stern look. "Okay, okay. I only want to get a little. Calm down, woman."

Harry chuckled as his friend silently mouthed 'no' at him when Hermione turned around to speak to somebody behind her.

He felt someone tap his shoulder and turned to see Ginny beaming at him. Before he could properly respond, she jumped onto the couch and placed herself on top of Harry's lap. "Are you going to take me to Honeydukes too, Harry? I'll buy you a chocolate frog."

Harry grinned back at her. "Of course, and you don't need to do that. In fact, I'm going to buy _you_ a chocolate frog."

She giggled and gave him a light peck on the mouth. Ron made a gagging noise and walked over to their couch and sat down next to them. "Honestly. Do you two need to be all over each other when I'm around? It's sickening, really."

Ginny stuck her tongue out at her brother. "Then go away, Ron!"

Ron returned the gesture and turned to Harry. "How can you stand her, Harry? She's a complete nut!" He avoided Ginny's attempt to hit his shoulder. "I'd rather see you with Malfoy!"

Harry stared at him and Ron's face turned beet red. "Whoa, wait. That came out wrong. I'd so rather not see that. Please."

Ginny batted playfully at his arm. "Don't worry, he's all mine. Aren't you, Harry?"

"Hm?" Harry was still a bit caught off guard from the 'dating Malfoy' comment. That would be completely ridiculous, wouldn't it? Him and Malfoy. Weird. He'd certainly never thought of that, ever before. "Oh, yeah. All yours."

Ron snorted and patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. "You're whipped, I tell you. And I was totally kidding about Malfoy. I don't know where that came from, actually."

Harry sighed and got up. "I'm going to go get some fresh air."

At the mention of Malfoy, he remembered the mini fight he'd gotten into with the other boy and felt bad about it. It wasn't Malfoy's fault that he had been so standoffish to Ginny. He was probably just acting like that because he was still getting used to his surroundings.

_Even though he hadn't had any problem with anybody else, not even Ron or Hermione… must've just been confused._

Harry shook his head. That didn't make any sense. Oh well, he'd rather stick to his theories than attempt to figure out what Malfoy's real reason was. It wasn't like he knew what was really going on in that boy's mind, or wanted to know. Besides, helping the Slytherin out with his classes was difficult enough as it was. He made sure his cloak was stashed in his robes before he headed out the portrait hole, as he didn't know how long he would be out.

Harry wandered down a few corridors aimlessly before he noticed that his feet were carrying him towards the Slytherin dungeons. Apparently, his body knew where he wanted to go before his mind did, so he let them take control. He did want to sort things out with Malfoy, anyway, even if he really didn't fancy going through the Slytherin common room all that much. Before long, he was at the portrait, which swung open with ease as he whispered the password and walked in, not even bothering with the cloak this time.

Thankfully, only Zabini was in there, sitting on one of the couches with a novel in his lap. When Harry entered the room, the boy looked up at him and groaned. "Not you again. Honestly, don't you ever knock or something?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I just want to talk to Malfoy," he said.

Zabini frowned. "Is something wrong? Did he have another breakdown?"

"No. I just need to discuss something with him."

"Oh." Zabini cleared his throat a little. "You know, he never told me what it was that made him shut himself in like that," he remarked.

Harry tilted his head. "Really? But aren't you his best friend?"

"Yeah. Didn't want to talk about it, though."

Hm. That was curious. Harry felt a tug of suspicion in his chest. Why would Malfoy want to hide his visions from his friend? He wouldn't, unless there was something about them that was frightening or dangerous. Or both. Whatever it was, Harry needed to figure it out. He glanced at Zabini, who looked like he was mildly upset over being kept out of the loop and sighed. He should fill him in, if Malfoy wouldn't. Zabini _was_ supposed to be helping, too.

"He's had a vision," Harry began. "A memory of 2nd year. Hermione thinks that it was triggered by something in the conversation that he and I were having at the time, or maybe by a thought he had. We don't know. Anyways, he was pretty shaken up by it and I'm not sure if he's had more. That's part of the reason why I'm here, actually, to figure out if there has been."

Zabini looked thoughtful. "That's strange. People with amnesia usually don't recall anything at all."

Harry shrugged. "It might be a odd side effect. I mean, it's not the typical form of amnesia to begin with. He got attacked by a bludger, for Merlin's sake."

"Yeah, because of you."

"Let's not get into that again. Anyways, is he here?"

Zabini motioned towards the boys' dormitories. "Up there. Might be sleeping, though." He grinned. "Heard that you woke him up when you visited last time. Did he bite your head off?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Why would he do that?"

"Because he never wakes up happy. He's punched me in the face on several occasions. Goyle and Nott have had their fair share of bloody noses as well."

Harry snorted. "Really? That's hilarious. But no, he was perfectly calm when he woke up. Seemed happy enough to me."

"Oh? That's interesting," Zabini answered.

The scheming look that had developed on the sly Slytherin's face was starting to trouble Harry. He decided that it was time to go.

"I'm going up to see him now."

"You do that."

"Okay. I'm ready to get punched in the face." He turned around and started up the stairs but before he could go even a few steps, he heard Zabini mutter something. He glanced over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

"Nothing, nothing. Go on."

Harry gave him a suspicious look and started walking up the stairs again. He could've sworn Zabini had just said something regarding Malfoy's sleeping patterns. Or something like that.

**~x~**

Draco raised his arms over his head and stretched in contentment. He'd done his homework, tidied up his closet and showered, so now he was all ready for bed. He let out a yawn as he flopped onto the bed, not even bothering to throw on his silk pajamas over the pants he had hastily slipped into after his shower. Ahh. He closed his eyes and let his sleepiness wash over him and his thoughts. He'd never gotten to have this much freedom over what he did while he was at home. He frowned. Granted, that was supposedly 8 years ago, so obviously times had changed. Still, it was nice.

He vaguely heard the sound of the door creaking open, but he didn't move from his position on the bed or open his eyes to check. But his confirmation of company came in the form of a small gasp and the sound of something loud clanging to the floor. Draco groaned in irritation. Blaise must be drunk again. The boy had stumbled in more than enough times in the past few days for Draco to recognise the noises and unfortunately for him, that was usually in the dead of the night. Really, what did it take to get a bit of sleep around here?

"For fuck's sake, shut up! You're so loud!"

"Erm… s-s-sorry," stammered Blaise.

Only… it wasn't Blaise's voice. Draco's eyes flew open in shock as he realised whose voice it was. He almost fell off his bed when he saw Harry Potter standing at his doorway, looking awkward and altogether uncomfortable. Then he looked down and remembered that all he was wearing was his embarrassingly thin pants. With quite an undignified squeak, Draco threw his hands in front of himself in a lame attempt to cover up.

"Harry! What are you doing here?"

The other boy cleared his throat nervously, his green eyes flicking around the room at everything but Draco. "Um, I have to, um, I wanted to…errr…" he blushed and looked at his feet. "Can you please put some clothes on, or something?"

Draco hurriedly grabbed his trousers from the floor and yanked them on. He looked around all over for a shirt but couldn't find one. Harry shook his head. "It's all right, you don't have to, that's good enough. Thanks. Anyway, I'm here because I wanted to apologise for scolding you earlier. It wasn't very fair of me."

Draco sat back down on his bed and motioned for Harry to join him, which he did. "Why are _you_ apologising? I should be the one saying sorry, I was very rude to Ginny," he responded.

Harry shrugged. "I know that you're going through some… unique changes right now. I shouldn't have been so quick to jump to conclusions."

"Yeah, well. Your conclusions were right. I don't know why, but I just don't like her. I don't know what it is. Obviously I didn't like her before, but I didn't like you either and I don't feel that around you."

Draco's stomach fluttered when he thought of the way he _did _feel around Harry. Merlin, that boy was attractive.

Harry frowned. "Hm. That's curious." He shifted around to make himself comfortable. "Maybe another memory trigger or something… Say, have you had anymore of those? I'm just wondering."

Draco shook his head. "No. At least, not consciously."

"What do you mean, not consciously?"

"Well, I suppose that I might be dreaming through some of them. I don't remember my dreams, but I haven't been sleeping very well since I woke up in the Hospital Wing. It could be a possibility."

"Hm," said Harry. He leaned back and rested his head on Draco's pillow. Draco stared at the contrast of the cream-coloured pillowcase to Harry's mess of dark, dark hair. It was mesmerising, really. "How do you feel after you wake? Happy? Scared? Angry?"

"What?" Draco asked. He was still distracted by the sight of Harry's hair splayed across his pillow. It looked soft. Really touchable. He could just reach out and touch it right now…

"I said, how do you feel after waking up?"

Draco shook his head, bringing him back to reality. He sat back and thought for a moment. "I don't feel anything. At least, no real strong emotions. I suppose I feel empty, perhaps. A bit lonely."

"Hm. That may very well just be the symptoms of 'teenage boy', but who knows," Harry quipped.

Draco cracked a smile. "That's probably it," he agreed.

Harry grinned back and sighed, closing his eyes. "This is such a mess, isn't it? How are you dealing with it?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just don't remember enough to be seriously affected by it. To me, this is my life, right here as we speak. I know nothing about how I used to be."

"Yeah, this is your life with a bunch of blurs and holes where your memories should've been."

"Ah, yes. But I don't recognise them. Like I said, I know nothing of it. And you know what they say."

Harry raised his head a bit and looked at him. "What?"

"Ignorance is bliss."

Harry snorted and lay his head back down.

"They've got that right."

**Author's Note: ****Hm. Compared to the previous chapters, this one is pretty short! But it's a school night and I'm tired, plus this is usually the amount I write in my chapters. Perhaps I'll write more for the next chapters, though. Who knows?**

**So I've introduced Ginny! What did you guys think of her? Personally, I dislike the whole idea of Ginny being annoying/stupid/slutty in fics. I think she should be portrayed as the strong, smart, stubborn girl that she's supposed to be. Ginny doesn't need to have such blatant flaws. I figure, Harry will still fall out of love with her even with all her good traits, simply because she isn't the one for him. (Draco is, duh!) And I hate it when she cheats on him or is terrible to him, because I don't believe she'd ever be that way. Ginny is a Gryffindor, she's Ron's sister! And screw it all, I like her. So there you have it, my unpopular opinion on Ginny. Feel free to agree, disagree, _review review reviiiiieeeew_—I mean, what? **


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I loved reading your responses and opinions about Ginny. Gave me a lot to consider for what I'll include next with her, plus some great insight on her character that I had never really gotten before. Fantastic stuff, guys! **

Chapter 4

Harry was rudely awakened from his peaceful slumber by the slam of a trunk nearby. He groaned and rolled over, burying his face into his pillow and desperately trying to fall asleep again. He'd been having the most wonderful dream where he'd experienced the utmost pleasure of his life by means of two pale, pale hands and an unusually quick tongue and he wanted to get back to it. Squeezing his eyes shut, he imagined those fair cheeks flush and felt excitement stir within him.

Suddenly, he wasn't so tired anymore. He couldn't quite picture whom it was that was doing it, as the image was merely a foggy fantasy, but he was sure it had to have been Ginny. Who else would it be? He tried not to remember the distinct blond hair the mystery lover had owned and consciously replaced it with fiery red. There. That was better.

His bed curtains suddenly shot open, interrupting his thoughts and revealing a bright crop of red hair wearing an equally bright patterned sweater with an 'R' stitched on the front.

"Oi! Time to wake up, Harry," Ron chirped, sounding uncharacteristically jovial for such an early morning.

Harry squinted at him sleepily. "Why should I?" he grumbled, turning his back from the light of the dorm. "It's Saturday."

"Exactly!" Ron exclaimed loudly, causing Harry to cringe. "Which means that today is Hogsmeade!" The boy came up and sat down on his bed, peering over Harry's shoulder to look at him meaningfully.

"Hermione's really excited. She wants to go to Flourish & Blotts to buy this new book or something. Don't let her drag me there alone!"

Harry sighed and turned over to face Ron properly. "You know that I'm spending the day with your sister, right? I believe it'll just be you and Hermione."

Ron made a face and Harry laughed. "Don't pretend that doesn't make you happy," he added slyly.

"It would make me happier if she wasn't going to spend more time with the books than with me," Ron muttered. He tugged on the edges of Harry's bed sheets. "Well, come on now. Get up, we're already running late for breakfast."

Sighing, Harry reluctantly crawled out of bed and padded towards his trunk, pulling out the first items of clothing he reached for and throwing them on. Then he grabbed his glasses from his bedside table and pushed them into his nose, running a hand through his hair as he did. It was pretty much a lost cause, trying to do his hair. That's why he never gave it a second thought, but it always drove Ginny crazy. Lastly, he shoved his feet into his favourite, perfectly beat-up trainers.

"Okay, I'm ready."

Ron gave him a quick once over and laughed. "Record time," he remarked. "But you know that Hermione and Ginny are both going to be horrified with how you look right now."

Harry shrugged. "I could care less about how I look. Why should they?"

"Seems logical enough to me," Ron agreed, heading towards the door. "Let's go."

The two friends walked to the Great Hall together, chatting easily about their plans for the day and this and that. Harry was actually looking forward to spending time in Hogsmeade to walk around aimlessly, maybe take a look into the broom shop and then lounge around in the Three Broomsticks for a couple butterbeers. He doubted that Ginny would approve of his plans, but he could still hope. And although he said he wouldn't, he would rather spend a bit of time with Ron and Hermione as well, just so that he and Ginny wouldn't have to be alone the entire time. He found that sometimes, with Ginny, it could get a little boring on their own.

When they finally reached the Gryffindor table there was only Ginny, Hermione, and a couple of random stragglers left eating. Harry slid into the seat next to Ginny and gave her a quick hug hello, and Ron did similarly with Hermione. Both girls stared at them with matching expressions of annoyance painted on their dainty faces.

"Where have you been?" Hermione demanded. "We've been waiting for _ages!_"

Ron jerked his thumb at Harry. "Sorry," he mumbled, his mouth already full of food. "Late start."

Ginny gave Harry a disapproving once-over. "Honestly, couldn't you dress up for once? I mean, Hogsmeade weekends are the only times we're allowed to wear whatever we want and you choose to show up in whatever you call _this_," she gestured vaguely at his outfit. "What is that colour called, anyway?" She stared at Harry's shirt in distaste. "Puke?"

Before Harry could respond, Ron put his fork down and glanced at her sharply. "Lay off, Gin. You're lucky he even got dressed at all."

"That's true," Hermione interjected. "He's been known to show up to breakfast in his pajamas on Hogsmeade weekends."

Ginny made an irritated huffing noise, but didn't respond otherwise. Harry ate his eggs in silent gratitude for his friends. He didn't want to start a petty fight with his girlfriend this early in the morning. Getting snappy with Ginny was the last thing he wanted to do right now. He smiled across the table at both Ron and Hermione, who were now busy having a good-natured squabble of their own. It was nice to have a few mediators around at all times, because he and Ginny were both so stubborn. Harry figured he repaid his friends for their help by occasionally mediating in _their_ relationship. Whatever that relationship was, anyway. Harry honestly didn't know what was going on between Ron and Hermione.

Once they were finished eating, the four of them headed down the path to the little town, opting to take the long way by walking. Ginny had apparently decided to forgive him for his terrible fashion sense and bad sleeping habits, and was clutching his arm happily while conversing with Hermione. Harry didn't really know why she got over it so quickly, but was decidedly glad that she did. He didn't like having to participate in that post-quarrel confrontation. Once they had reached Hogsmeade, the two couples split to go their separate ways, Hermione and an unenthusiastic Ron to the bookshop, and Harry and Ginny to Honeydukes for the promised sweets.

Ginny picked out a small bag of treats for herself and an observably larger one for her brother, and Harry bought a couple of chocolate frogs. Harry offered her one and she took it with a smile, lacing her fingers with his as they walked out.

"This is nice," she commented, unwrapping her chocolate frog and giggling as it hopped out of the box.

"Yeah," he replied, glancing around.

It was quite a nice day out, and there were many students milling around the shops. He wondered if it would be okay to ask if they could join some friends this early in the day, or if this was a private date of some sort. Ginny seemed pretty cheerful, and Harry didn't want to mess that up. But he really wasn't having that much fun with Ginny when all they had seemed to achieve so far was long silences and dry conversation, like he knew that they would. Besides, it was the kind of day that to Harry required a large group of friends to hang around with, not a date. The weather was perfect and the day was still young. He wanted to enjoy himself.

As they rounded a street corner, Harry heard some voices up ahead and eagerly sped up a little to find out who it was. They sounded like they were having a good time and Harry was desperate to join in.

"You're an absolute tool, Blaise!"

Harry heard the female voice and he recognised Pansy Parkinson's petite figure, her slim arms crossed over her chest in defiance as she glared at a gleeful-looking Zabini. He spotted a familiar shock of white-blond hair standing next to the pair and sighed in relief, pulling Ginny along with him.

"Hey!" Harry called, and the three Slytherins turned to look at them. Malfoy was the only one to wave back at him. The other two just stood slightly behind him with matching smirks on their faces. Ginny tugged on his arm a bit, obviously more than a little inclined to turn around and leave. Harry just ignored her and continued to walk towards them until he reached the little group.

"Do you mind if we hang out with you for a while?"

Ginny squeezed his arm again, and Malfoy looked down at her as if grilling her for inspection. "We'd love for you to accompany us," he answered, shooting Ginny a smile much too big for it to be truly genuine. "We were just about to head to the Three Broomsticks."

"Great," Harry said, glancing over at Ginny quickly before following Malfoy and his crew towards the small pub. Her bottom lip was sticking out ever so slightly and was accompanied with an annoyed scowl. He knew that he was really going to get it for doing this, but it had been much too awkward and plus, Harry sort of liked hanging around with the new Malfoy. It was Malfoy's Slytherin pals that he really needed to watch out for.

The five of them crowded into a tiny booth near the back of the room and ordered their drinks. Harry licked his lips and observed each occupant of the table. Ginny was sitting stiffly next to him with a frown and her arms crossed over her chest. Zabini was leaning back in his seat, glancing at Malfoy with one dark, perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised. Parkinson was smirking at Ginny. And Malfoy was staring at him.

"So," he began, clearing his throat in hopes of starting a decent conversation. "How about those Chudley Cannons?"

Zabini snorted. "How about you come up with a better topic," he offered sarcastically.

Harry just smiled back. With all the time he was spending helping Malfoy, he was getting quite used to Zabini's cynical comments, and they no longer intimidated him. Plus, it annoyed the Slytherin boy more when Harry didn't get angry, and Harry enjoyed seeing Zabini get annoyed.

"Now Blaise, be nice," Malfoy scolded lightly, looking up to thank the waitress who had just brought them their drinks with a nod. Harry took a sip of his butterbeer and sighed in contentment. Now_ this_ is what he wanted to do with his day.

Zabini grinned widely at his friend. "Okay, I'll be nice to your little boyfriend, Draco," he leered.

Ginny snapped out of her silent stare-off with Parkinson to glower at Zabini. "He's my boyfriend, you arse," she spat, looking him up and down in a disgusted once-over.

"Hey, he was just kidding," Malfoy interrupted, turning to Ginny with a frown on his face. "You don't have to be so touchy."

"Touchy?" she echoed shrilly. "He_ is_ my boyfriend, and I don't appreciate people making jokes or otherwise." She let out a short, resentful laugh and shook her head.

"I don't even know why we're sitting here, to be honest. He doesn't even like you. He just feels bad that you stupidly wound up in the Hospital Wing on what he thinks is his account. You're still the same Malfoy that we've always hated."

Harry saw a flash of hurt and surprise in Malfoy's grey eyes and suddenly felt incredibly defensive for him. Ex-enemy or not, this boy was suffering a great deal from his injury that was in fact Harry's fault, and it was completely unfair of her to say that to him. Besides, none of it made any sense at all. He instinctively grabbed Malfoy's arm and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"That's not even remotely true," Harry protested. "I like you, and it was my mistake. She's just being stubborn and insensitive." Then he looked sharply at Ginny, who was gaping at him like a fish. "You can't speak for me, Gin. And I don't like the way that you've been treating him today. You might have disliked him before, but that doesn't give you any reason to now that he's in this vulnerable state."

Her gaping turned to glaring and she nudged him to let her out of the booth. "You know, sometimes your hero complex annoys the shit out of me, Harry. It's obvious that you only care about him because he's not himself." She pushed at him again when he refused to move, harder this time. "I'm leaving," she announced. "I understand that I'm the only one here with the least bit of sense."

"Ginny—" he began.

She held up a finger to him. "No, Harry," her brown eyes softened just a bit, wide with unhappiness from being snubbed by her own boyfriend in favour of her worst enemy. Harry felt a rush of guilt go through him, but not enough to apologise for reprimanding her. He had to remind himself that her behavior was completely uncalled for. "I'm leaving. I'll… I'll see you later."

He reluctantly let her out of the booth, understanding that they needed to have this conversation later, when they were alone. But for now, he would give her time to cool off and think rationally. He watched her leave the pub and sighed. Sometimes, having a girlfriend seemed like way too much work. But hey, at least he got what he wanted, right?

When Harry looked back at the rest of his company, they were all staring at him with mixed expressions of unease and respect. After a few moments of silence, Malfoy spoke first.

"Thank you. That was… that was brave, Harry," he murmured.

"Why? She was out of line. I couldn't just sit back and let her say those things to you."

Parkinson shot him a small half-smile and Zabini made a noise of agreement. "She's your girlfriend. Standing up to your girlfriend has got to be the scariest thing there is," the dark-haired boy noted. "But I suppose dealing with scary things is your forte."

"And you did it for Draco," Parkinson added. "That was sweet." She almost looked pleased by the notion.

Harry looked at the three of them, whom were all observing him in plain admiration now. He shook his head. What was so amazing about what he did? He was only being fair. "It's no big deal, guys," he objected. "Really."

Zabini made a grunting noise and looked over at Parkinson. "Well, I think I'm in the mood for a bit of ice cream. Want to hit the parlour?"

"Sure," she responded. Then she looked over at Malfoy and Harry. "Don't wait up for us, okay?" Before either of them could say anything, the two of them made their way out of the pub and disappeared.

Harry glanced over at Malfoy, who looked slightly amused. "So it's just us now?"

Malfoy gave him a shy, sort of sweet smile that Harry had never seen on the boy's angular face before. The thought made Harry's heart race a little. "Yes. What do you want to do?"

He shrugged his shoulders and leaned back, thinking to himself. Although he wasn't with a big group of friends, this is what he wanted. Malfoy was giving him free reign of the rest of the day's activities, to spend it doing whatever it was that he felt like doing and on his own terms. They could go to the cauldron shop. Visit Gringott's. Admire broomsticks. Or perhaps Harry's preferred hobby of meandering around without direction or purpose. There was so much that he could do, so much that he could choose from, and the thought excited him. And for some reason having random, spontaneous fun in Hogsmeade with the Slytherin boy made the idea even more appealing. Harry turned to Malfoy, who was waiting for his answer patiently and grinned.

"Everything."

**~x~**

Draco followed Harry as he peered into yet another shop window, smiling when the boy had apparently found something interesting and motioned him over to come see it. Draco walked over and saw a small flock of owls perched on some wooden dowels inside the display window. Harry was gazing in silence at a particularly snow-white owl, but Draco could not imagine why. He figured that it was something personal, or perhaps something he had forgotten with the lack of his school memories. But before he could ask or even guess, Harry had snapped out of it and was already heading off to the next shop window.

Draco began to trail behind him again, but a certain store drew his attention and he stopped.

"Hey, Harry?"

The other boy turned around and looked at him questioningly.

"Yes?"

"Can we go in there?"

Harry followed his gaze until he too was facing the shop, and frowned a bit.

"You want to go into Twilfitt and Tatting's? Why?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. I think I like it."

Harry started towards it, nodding.

"I think you do, too. Or at least, you did. It's a very expensive shop, and you liked expensive things."

The two of them entered the store together, and Draco looked around in awe. The room was filled with robes and clothing of all sorts made of rich fabrics like silk, chiffon, and velvet. He let his hand run along a jumper that was neatly folded on a rack nearby. Cashmere.

"Mr. Malfoy!"

Draco turned and found a small, squat woman dressed in all black rushing towards him with a huge smile on her painted red lips. "How delightful it is to see you!" Then she saw Harry and her face turned the color of her ruby lipstick. "And Harry Potter! Oh, what an honour it is to have the two of you grace my humble shop! I'm Gloria, by the way. Mr. Draco already knows that, though," she said, giggling merrily with a wink.

Harry looked visibly uncomfortable with the grand introduction. He ran a hand through his hair.

"Um, thank you ma'am."

"Can I help you with anything? Sizes? Fit?"

"Erm, no, we're fine."

Gloria gave them one last squeak of enthusiasm before finally walking away and leaving them alone. Harry turned to look at Draco skeptically.

"What are we doing here?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. It felt natural."

He looked around at the items around him, feeling oddly at home with the surrounding garments. He figured that he must've liked costly attire, seeing as he was so comfortable and the shop owner had recognised him instantly. He grabbed a few things from the shelves impulsively and began to wander around, searching through the racks and counters and picking up more clothing without even thinking about it. Harry trailed behind him like a ghost, watching him with a curious expression on his face. Draco looked at him.

"Well? Aren't you going to look around, too?"

"I… I don't really come here often."

"But surely, you can afford it."

"Well yeah, but…" Harry glanced around again anxiously, "I'm not very good at shopping."

Draco felt a rush of sympathy for the boy. Harry was certainly the kind of person who was able to conquer most tasks without even blinking an eye. It was odd that something as simple as shopping could terrify such a fearless hero. He decided that since he apparently knew what he was doing, he could help out a bit.

"Here, let me pick up a few things for you."

He snatched up a soft forest-green jumper from a counter and another one in ebony, then a long-sleeved sweater with thin blue and grey stripes running horizontally across the chest. He picked up a simple but elegant black robe from another rack and handed all of the items over to Harry. "There, I've got you started. Just pick things up. It couldn't hurt to just try them."

Harry looked surprised, if not a bit grateful. "Thanks, Ma—er, Draco." He shot Draco a winning smile that made his insides twist in tight, fluttery little knots.

After a while, they made their way towards the dressing rooms. Draco looked around for Gloria and not seeing her anywhere, motioned Harry towards one of the rooms. "Come on, we can share. This way I can tell you if you look good or not."

Harry nodded and walked in, closing the door behind him. They hung up their garments and each began to change, facing away from each other in courtesy of the other's privacy. When he was fully dressed, Draco looked at himself in the mirror, smiling in satisfaction at his chosen outfit. His knack for style seemed to just be getting better by the minute. He turned to observe Harry, who was still struggling with the clasp of his robe. Draco walked over to help him fasten it at the neck, then stepped back and whistled.

"If you walk around like that, Harry, I guarantee that you'll not only be known as the Boy-Who-Lived, but the Boy-Who-Lived-to-be-a-walking-sex-god."

Harry blushed and looked in the mirror self-consciously. "They're not that great," he mumbled.

"Those clothes aren't hideous and they fit. So I say that they're a success," Draco declared.

Harry snorted. "Now there's the Draco I know and… well, know."

Draco grinned and waved him off. "We're buying these. Now try on the rest of your clothes. We've got a lot to cover."

Harry sighed and unhooked the robe, sliding it off his shoulders. Draco tried not to stare at him as he pulled his jumper over his head and miles of pearly, flawlessly toned skin was revealed. He gulped and turned away before Harry could see him looking, trying to hide the slight flush of his cheeks. They spent a good hour trying things on, swapping clothes and swapping back, before paying for their things and heading back out into the lovely afternoon sun. Harry motioned him over to a nice spot on a grassy area off on the side of the road and plopped himself down underneath a large tree. Draco joined him, and they both rested their heads upon the bags of their purchased goods.

"Merlin, today was fun," Harry murmured, his eyes gazing upward at the fluffy white clouds above. "I'm glad we did this."

Draco experienced a rush of pride at being essentially complimented by Harry. He knew that it was sort of ridiculous, especially since they had apparently disliked each other so much only a little while ago, but he felt as if the two of them had been roaming around Hogsmeade together for their whole lives. It felt good. It felt right.

"Me too," he agreed. "I like spending time with you."

Harry turned on his side so that he was facing Draco. He studied him as if he were some kind of strange experiment. "I wonder if we would have been friends if none of the circumstances or prejudices had existed between us."

He was quiet again as he studied Draco some more. After a while, he spoke again confidently. "Yes, we would have. I'm sure of it."

Draco suddenly imagined his father standing next to him, tall and regal, looking as if he were bidding him farewell. "Remember, befriend Harry Potter," he could almost hear him say. "And be careful. Your mother and I wish you an educationally enlightening experience. And," —there was a pause— "we love you, son. Good-bye."

The tears were spilling out of his eyes before he could stop to react or even think. Despair engulfed his heart and replaced the light giddiness that had been there only moments before. How could the man who stood there, seeing his only son off at Platform 9 and ¾, be the same man who lived and died for an evil maniac? His father and mother—the ones who had supposedly loved him—how could they have forgotten that when they threw away their lives? Didn't they realise that they were throwing his away, too? Had they even loved him at all? Draco choked on sobs that were inflexibly stuck in his throat, unsure of why they were so scratchy and difficult to let out. Obviously, he had not been good at crying. There was yet another thing that made him feel so cold and distant from his former self.

"Draco?" Harry had scooted closer to him and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. His touch soothed Draco slightly. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Draco rasped, struggling to find the words to convey the emotions he was feeling. It was tough because he wasn't even sure if he knew what he was feeling, or perhaps if he knew anything at all.

"Did you have another flashback?" Harry asked frantically, his green eyes searching Draco's face for answers.

He nodded slowly and took a shaky breath. "I think so. My father. Hogwarts Express. He wanted me to—" he closed his eyes and another stray tear trickled down his cheek.

Harry reached out and wiped it away with his thumb. "Shh. It's okay," he whispered, his thumb moving over Draco's lips to silence him. "You don't have to continue."

Draco stared back at him silently, aware of the small sniffles and gasps still involuntarily escaping from his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on keeping his chest from heaving and steadying his breathing. When he felt that he finally had control over his reactions, he opened his eyes again to find the other boy still watching him with apprehension.

"Better?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded. "Thank you," he murmured.

"I know that it's hard," Harry replied, and to Draco's disappointment removed his hand from his face. "And I'm sorry that you have to experience that all over again. You've been so brave about this whole thing."

"I don't even know how I did it once," Draco sighed.

"Well, back then you didn't know how it would turn out, your future. So I'm guessing that it was a very different experience."

Draco nodded. "I think that's the hard part. I was optimistic because I didn't know of the terrible things that would happen. And somehow, I still don't know. I only know that I got here, not how. Even if I wanted to go back and warn my father, what could I warn him of? There's only a dark blob of nothingness where those memories used to be. And I know there are memories, yet I can't even wish that I could go back and change them. Because I'm not certain that they were ever real to begin with."

Harry inspected his face sadly, suddenly looking very worn. "I can't say that I know how it feels, not knowing if what I know is real or not—but I do know how it is to feel as if my mind is not my own. Listen, I'll be here every step of the way, okay? I don't care how long or where it'll take you. All I know is that I'm going to be there too."

Draco looked up into Harry's earnest expression, and all thoughts of doubt disappeared from his brain. Never had he seen anybody so determined, so beautifully certain in himself and his decisions in his entire life.

"Why are you helping me?"

He knew that he had asked this before, but he still genuinely did not know the answer. He wasn't sure that Harry knew the answer himself.

There was a pause. "Because I want to," Harry finally responded.

He thought back to what Ginny had said about Harry only caring about him because he wasn't acting like his old self. "Not because you feel obligated to? Or because I'm not the Draco Malfoy you used to know?"

"No. Because I really _want _to_."_

Draco breathed a sigh of relief and offered Harry a tiny grin. Harry's lips curved up in a gentle half-smile back. The feeling of sincere happiness he got from the look on Harry's face did not feel unfamiliar to Draco, and it was then that he knew that it was going to be okay no matter what happened. Because even if everything else about him had changed, his heart hadn't. Surely, it hadn't. He had to have the same wishes and desires that his old self used to keep buried deep within his cold shell. And then he wondered: Would this be the first time that he, Draco Malfoy, had fallen head over heels for the famous Harry Potter?

Somehow, Draco automatically knew that the answer was no.

**Author's Note: Cuteness and comfort ensues! Too quick? I hope not. I rather like the build up. Draco's got a clean slate to start from, so I believe that it's more likely that he would be the first to develop romantic feelings. Harry's got all those memories and that pesky girlfriend to deal with! **

**So because I like discussion, I want to know how you guys feel about Draco's parents. Or the Malfoy family, in general. I personally feel bad for them because cruelty was all they knew. Draco was raised that way, and I'm sure both of his parents were as well. They were raised to stick by their pureblood beliefs, and so they followed Voldemort because of it. But after he… let's say, got out of control, the Malfoy family was at the mercy of Voldemort and could not break away from him because, in essence, they were much too cowardly to. But I also don't think that cowardice was the only aspect; they also wanted to protect each other. Because, as a family, I believe that they loved each other very much. I get emotional thinking about how Narcissa basically betrayed Voldemort by declaring Harry dead just so that she could go look for her son. Anyways, I probably have more to say but not enough brain cells at the moment to convey it, so I'll leave it at that. Hope you enjoyed and I'll be back very soon! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Hi guys. Couldn't resist posting another chapter in honor of it being the weekend. Whoohoo! **

Chapter 5

Draco glanced down at his notes and then up at his cauldron, frowning at the potion bubbling ominously in front of him. The instructions clearly said that the mixture was supposed to be crimson-coloured with a syrupy texture, not the green and murky goop that was swirling around Draco's cauldron. So what the hell had he done wrong? He observed a few of his classmates around him and, seeing that theirs seemed to be doing fantastically, looked down at his notes again with a defeated sigh. Ugh. What was he supposed to do? He'd followed his instructions very carefully. Draco pushed it all away from him and sat down angrily, grumbling to himself.

He couldn't remember anything, he kept on having flashbacks—and half of the time he wasn't even sure if they were real. He hadn't told Harry about the ones he had during the night because he didn't want to frighten him, but they were always wrong. Or in Blaise's account, they were. He apparently had never won the Quidditch cup for his team or been to America before. But those flashbacks had been just as vivid as the supposedly genuine ones, so he couldn't distinguish what was real and what was not. Draco banged his head on the desk repeatedly. What if he never got back on track again?

Snape appeared in front of his table and peered into his cauldron, which was almost boiling over quite miserably. His face twisted up as if he'd tasted a lemon.

"Mr. Malfoy…"

It was obvious that the man was having troubles trying to find something encouraging to say about Draco's potion. But apparently, no words were coming to the normally eloquent professor. "I know that you are still coping with your injuries, so you can simply re-do this assignment another time."

Draco sighed. He knew that Snape was being much too lenient with him, and he really _was_ trying. But his mind was still wiped clean of any kind of memory that had to do with his schoolwork. He wondered if he'd been good in school before, because his parents would have been quite disappointed if his marks had been even half as dreadful as the ones he was currently getting. But Harry _had_ said that Draco was previously some sort of Potions genius before the accident. So where was that apparent genius now?

Harry walked over from his station and poked Draco's arm lightly before sitting down in the seat next to him.

"Hi. How are you doing with your potion?"

"Awful. I think the only reason why Snape isn't failing me is because he favours me."

Harry shrugged. "Well, at least you've got that. I have no skills or favouritism," he joked.

It was true. Draco didn't know why, but Snape wholly hated Harry, and seemed to punish the Gryffindor boy quite a lot. It was actually a bit funny, the way that the man screamed at Harry sometimes for no apparent reason at all. Draco even felt somewhat bad for him, who probably had had to deal with Snape's wrath since the beginning of his school career. He managed a small smile.

"I guess I could have had it worse," he agreed.

Harry nodded solemnly. "Yes. Anyways, I was wondering if you might want to come to this thing tonight. Um, Dean's hosting it, and I reckon it'll be a lot of fun. Maybe. You should come! Er, well, you don't have to, I'm not forcing you or anything. Come if you want to, I mean." He blushed and ran a hand through his hair anxiously.

Draco thought that his lack of articulate speech was quite sweet. "Yeah, that sounds like fun."

Harry brightened. "Really? I mean, you could bring Zabini or someone. It won't be all Gryffindors, there will be students from all Houses there."

"Where?"

Harry paused and glanced at him. "Um, the Room of Requirement," he answered. He watched Draco's face as if waiting for something to happen or for his expression to change, which was curious.

But Draco didn't question it and just shrugged. "Okay. You'll have to show me where that is."

Harry seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "All right, fair enough."

Snape swooped by the table again with a scowl on his face that seemed like it had been specially crafted just for Harry. He had probably perfected it over the many years that Draco couldn't remember, because it was just the right combination of disgust and loathing.

"You know, Potter, you are not required to follow Draco's schedule anymore. I believe that he is quite capable of handling himself by now."

Harry grinned back at the sneering man. "But his potions are in dire need of my assistance, sir. I can't just leave him here to fend for himself."

Snape looked like he was about to counter that with a snarling retort, but one look at Draco's pleading expression seemed to change his mind. He instead mumbled something gruffly and turned away, leaving them alone again. Draco smiled in satisfaction. He didn't want Harry to go back to his old schedule because that would mean that he would see less of him, and Draco enjoyed seeing the Gryffindor boy very much. He was grateful that his godfather had picked up on his reluctance to part ways with Harry. Apparently, Snape was much more observant than Draco had previously accounted him for.

The bell rang and the students filed out the doorway as quickly as possible. It was lunchtime and everybody was rushing to get out of the dismal Potions classroom and into the Great Hall. Draco himself was actually a bit impatient to leave as well. Rumour was that they were going to be serving steak today.

Harry fell into step with him as they walked to lunch side by side comfortably, the way they'd been doing it since Draco had gotten out of the Hospital Wing. Draco chuckled when he noticed that the other boy's robes were much too long for him so that he kept tripping over the ends every few minutes. Typical, typical Harry. Next Hogsmeade trip, Draco was definitely going to buy the boy some much needed fitted school robes.

"Oversized much?"

Harry shot him a crooked grin. "I'm not very tall, you know."

Draco felt a peculiar urge to smirk and tease Harry mercilessly, but he shook the idea out of his thoughts instead.

"Obviously."

He craned his neck in exaggeration, patting Harry on the top of his messy crop of hair to prove his point. Harry tried to shove him but he only managed to trip again and Draco laughed, holding out a hand to steady the other boy before continuing to walk once more. Harry gave him a sheepish smile and mumbled a quick thank-you, and Draco was about to respond when he saw a flash of red hair behind Harry's beaming face. He frowned as he remembered Harry's fight with his girlfriend.

"Hey, are you and Ginny okay? Because I feel sort of bad for what happened the other day," Draco began.

Harry waved him off. "We talked and she was a bit upset but she didn't glare at me this morning, so I think I'm out of hot water for now." Then he patted Draco's shoulder, as if he could sense that that did still not reassure him. "Honestly, don't worry about it. It wasn't your fault, she was overreacting."

Good. Even if Draco did sort of wish a teensy bit that the couple would break-up, he didn't want to be the cause of it, especially if it would make Harry unhappy. Harry deserved to be happy after all that he'd been through. Or at least, what Draco had _heard_ he had been through. He nodded and held his arms out towards the doors to the Great Hall, which they had finally reached.

"Ladies first," he quipped.

Harry glowered at him halfheartedly and started to come at him when he tripped once again, this time on his own laces, falling straight into Draco's conveniently waiting arms. The two boys looked at each other in surprise. Harry's clear green eyes were wide and so close to his face and oh, it was wonderful. Draco tried to memorise the feeling of holding him and the softness of his touch, those little ripples in his arms where his muscles tensed upon contact.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

Draco tore his gaze away from Harry's rosy face and saw Ginny standing there with her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.

"Are you _hugging_ Malfoy?"

Harry immediately pushed himself out of the embrace and Draco could almost cry from the loss of contact. "Erm, no. I fell." He turned to Draco with his face still flaming, and whether it was from his clumsiness or the strange moment they had just shared, Draco didn't know. "Thank-you for catching me."

"I'll always be here to catch you," Draco blurted out randomly. He felt like slapping himself in the face. That was so idiotic, why couldn't he have thought of anything better to say? That sounded like a line from a bad muggle sitcom. Not that he really knew what a muggle sitcom was, anyways.

Luckily, Harry only shot him a feeble smile and nodded. "Right. Anyways, see you later, Draco." He took Ginny's hand and guided her into the Great Hall towards the Gryffindor table.

Draco sighed and followed them in, heading towards the Slytherin table where Blaise was waiting for him instead. He sat down and tried to ignore the sight of Harry with his arm laced through Ginny's, even though the location of his seat made it practically impossible not to look. Damn his old self's obsession with Harry! He could not stop the small noise of annoyance coming from his throat when Harry laughed at something that she said. Harry should be laughing at something _he_ said! He continued to glower silently at the redhead until Blaise nudged his shoulder and pointed at the plate in front of him.

"Are you going to eat that?"

"What?"

"Your steak."

Draco looked down at the piece of meat in front of him and then at Blaise.

"Yes."

He picked up his fork and his gaze wandered over to the Gryffindor table again. Now Ginny was touching Harry's arm, the same arm that touched _him_ a few minutes ago! That arm was Draco's, it was his, he claimed it, because it was his and only his goddamn it! He wanted to run over there and yell, 'BITCH, HE'S MINE!' and then hex her into oblivion. He shook his head at the harsh thought and focused on reality again. She was basically draped all over him! Like... like… _drapes! And not the good kind, either. Cheap, red, drapes_, he steamed mutely. Where this sudden aggression had come from, he didn't know. But he wasn't about to stop himself when he was merely thinking it. That was harmless, wasn't it?

"Whoa Draco, what did that steak ever do to you?"

Draco glanced back at his friend, who was staring at him oddly. He looked down and noticed that he had been viciously stabbing the steak without knowing it and his knuckles were ashy-white from gripping the fork so tightly. He sighed in frustration and vowed not to look at the couple again because they were obviously not helping along the condition of his sanity right now.

"Nothing, I just—nothing."

Blaise raised an eyebrow with a small, knowing smile. "Okay. It's not like you have a big fat crush on Potter or anything."

There was a moment of silence as Draco stared at him and he stared back. "Yeah, this is the part where you say, _what? No fucking way Blaise! He's icky! _No?"

Draco grinned a little. "Harry's not icky," he admitted softly.

"Oh, don't tell me that you fancy him!"

Draco kept smiling and Blaise groaned in incredulity.

"You _do!_ Aw, come on, you're really going there? That's no fun at all. You should at least deny it for a couple of months, that's what the old Draco would've done! Well… probably not, because the old Draco hated Potter, but really! You're not following the Slytherin code. This is just the way it works! Shame on you for breaking it!"

Draco laughed. "Your babble is somewhat endearing, Blaise. I see why I kept you around," he commented, yanking his fork out of his punctured meat and carefully cutting a small square. "But I'm not in denial. He's nice and funny and attractive, and I fancy him." He abandoned the small square and shoved a huge portion of steak into his mouth instead.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "I'm going to puke. But Pansy is going to have a heyday," he muttered.

Draco let himself smirk instinctively and continued to concentrate on eating and not looking at Harry for the rest of the meal.

**~x~**

Harry led Malfoy down the corridor to the entrance of the Room of Requirement, glancing around for Filch or any staff member before muttering a few words in front of the blank wall. Harry grinned when he saw Malfoy's eyes grow wide at the sudden appearance of a doorway. He remembered just how exciting it had been for him to learn about the Room of Requirement as well. He ushered the other boy in quickly, checked his surroundings again, and then followed him inside.

He whistled at the sight. The place looked like an actual nightclub, with the lights flashing and the sea of people in the middle of the floor dancing. Well, he hadn't actually ever been to a nightclub, but he had watched plenty of movies on his Uncle's telly when they weren't home and they had looked pretty much like this. Harry looked down at his plain black jumper and trousers, suddenly feeling a bit underdressed. Oh well, it's not like he had anybody to impress. He turned to Malfoy and raised his eyebrows.

"Brilliant, right?"

The boy nodded breathlessly and Harry gazed back into the crowd with ease. He hadn't been sure if it would be such a smart idea to bring Malfoy to the Room of Requirement because of the bad memories, but Malfoy seemed just fine at the moment. In fact, he seemed almost hopeful. About what, Harry didn't know, but it was still nice to know that he'd done something right for a change.

Harry looked over at Malfoy again. "You sure Zabini doesn't want to come?"

"Well when I mentioned it he made a face, so I said that if he didn't want to go I would tell you that he had loads of work to do. And then he said 'no, just tell him that I hate him and I don't feel like witnessing his unsightly mug tonight.' So yeah."

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. Typical Zabini. He didn't even know why he bothered.

"Sounds about right. Anyways, come on. Let's go sit down."

He pushed his way through the crowd of people, grabbing Malfoy's hand so that he wouldn't get lost in the mass of sweaty bodies. They reached a slightly less populated area of couches, and Harry sat down in relief. He hoped that Malfoy wouldn't mind just sitting here the entire time, because he didn't feel like going through that all again. And for some reason, Harry felt that it was his duty to monitor Malfoy the entire night, even though really, that wasn't his job at all. He supposed that the protectiveness was just a result of his nature. After taking a few deep breaths, he looked up and noticed a head of brown, bushy hair bobbing towards him in the crowd.

"Hermione!" he called, and the brunette suddenly appeared before him, dragging a frazzled-looking Ron behind her.

"Hi!" she chirped, after nodding at Malfoy. "Some party, huh?"

"Yeah, and you were the one who didn't approve of this," Harry pointed out.

She shook her head. "Yes, well, I still think it's completely irresponsible and mental, but I'm having loads of fun anyways. How are you two?"

The pair sat down on the couch opposite of them, Ron looking quite uncomfortable with the situation.

Harry glanced at Malfoy and shrugged. "I'm good. A little tired out from going through that sea, though."

Malfoy nodded. "Same here."

The friends chatted about this and that casually, but Harry noticed that Ron had yet to say anything directly to Malfoy. Since the boy was obviously still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that they liked the blond now, Harry decided to help speed up the process. Besides, he wasn't almost placed in Slytherin for nothing. He leaned back in his seat.

"I could sure use a good game of wizard chess right now," he mused aloud.

Ron and Malfoy both nodded and said, "me too" at the same time. Then they looked at each other in bewilderment. Harry grinned as a couple tables of the game appeared in front of them, his plan was working.

"Fantastic. I'll play with Hermione." He winked at the girl and she smiled back knowingly.

Malfoy and Ron each had matching expressions of doubt on their faces, but they set up their game silently anyways. Not even a half an hour later, the two of them were already in heated competitive exchange, occasionally hurling a somewhat good-natured jab at the other. Harry and Hermione were barely even playing their own game and instead opted to watch the other boys battle until, after a long struggle, Malfoy beat Ron by just the tiniest bit. They both leaned back in their seats, mentally exhausted.

"Good game, Malfoy," Ron remarked, his eyebrows raised in approval.

"You too, Ron," Malfoy replied, causing the rest of them to smile involuntarily at the usage of the boy's first name.

Harry patted him on the back. "I think this calls for a victory kiss!"

The Slytherin stared at him with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open. Harry laughed and waggled his eyebrows playfully, enjoying Malfoy's discomfort.

"Don't you want a kiss from me, Draco?"

"Do I… Erm," Malfoy stammered.

Harry grinned and pulled out a little silver-wrapped sweet from his pocket, supposing that his teasing had gone far enough for now. He tried to hand it to him but the boy seemed fixated on something on Harry's face. So he rubbed his jaw self-consciously and then placed the chocolate in Malfoy's hand himself.

"Here you go. A chocolate kiss for you," he said.

Malfoy stared at it as if he were in shock for a moment, then shook his head and smiled.

"Um, thanks."

"I got two from this girl in Charms today. Her mum went on a trip to the States and got her a whole bag from a muggle sweet shop. You can have my other one if you want," he offered.

Malfoy turned red. "No thanks. I'm okay."

Harry shrugged. He didn't really know what Malfoy was getting all flustered about because it was just a piece of candy. Though he did enjoy seeing the look on the blond's face when he had first mentioned the victory kiss. He absently wondered if Malfoy would have let him actually kiss him had Harry not pulled the chocolate kiss out of his pocket. Harry shook the thought out of his brain. That was ridiculous and it would never happen, even in the confused post-coma state Malfoy was in.

He stood up and nodded at Ron and Hermione, who were both watching him with amusement for some reason. "I'm going to go get a drink," he announced.

Malfoy automatically followed him to one of the tables and watched the crowd of people dancing as Harry poured himself a cup of obviously spiked pumpkin juice. He was about to search the tabletop for a napkin when one of the mahogany drawers flew open, revealing a stack of crisp, white napkins. Harry took one and noted the slightly charred state of the wood, making it seem darker than it was on the outside. But somebody had probably polished it before the party, anyways.

He cleared his throat and Malfoy looked at him.

"What are you thinking about?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Just looking around the place. Something about it seems familiar. Is it?"

Harry's heart tightened with fear that he would discover the truth. It was an irrational fear, really, because somewhere deep down, Malfoy already knew the truth. All the same, Harry wanted to protect him from having to know about all that happened in here, because it seemed that this room only contained bad memories for him. If he wanted to protect Malfoy, he'd have to protect him from his own past, and that was something that Harry could not control. It was strange, because Harry recalled that only a few weeks ago, he wouldn't have censored anything from Malfoy at all, because he didn't really care whether or not he found out anything unpleasant. Harry tried to remain casual about it, leaning back on the table. He decided that maybe a little white lie couldn't hurt.

"Um, no. You've never been in here before."

Malfoy frowned, and Harry could practically hear the wheels in his brain churning, trying to piece things together. As he opened his mouth to say something his eyes flicked down to the table that Harry was leaning on and his eyes grew wide, then glassy. Harry leaped forward and grabbed Malfoy's shoulders to steady him and then shook him a little.

"Draco? Draco!"

Harry shook him harder, desperate for the boy to come back. Even though Malfoy had done this a few times already in his presence, Harry couldn't help but feel panicked whenever he saw that blank look cross his face because every time it meant another horrifying memory, every time it meant another painful explanation. Harry studied Malfoy frantically, searching his eyes for something, anything. He knew he was being paranoid, but what if Malfoy lost his sense of reality and never came back?

Suddenly, Malfoy shuddered and gasped, snapping out of his flashback in heavy breaths, as if he had been punched in the stomach. His grey eyes were wide and unblinking as his body shifted back and forth in slight rocking motions that he probably didn't even realise he was making.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, partly in vain, still clutching Malfoy's shoulders with a grip that was probably much too tight.

But the other boy didn't notice that, he seemed to be unable to breathe properly let alone speak, and he choked on the air like it was limited. Then he started to sink to the ground in a desperate attempt to curl up in the fetal position, but Harry wouldn't let him. He glanced around and pulled Malfoy up, gently dragging him to the dark circle of couches that was meant to be for couples snogging and sitting him down on one of the loveseats. This was bad. This was very bad.

"Tell me what happened," Harry demanded firmly.

Malfoy gulped a couple of times. It was dark, but Harry could still make out the trail of fresh tears running down his cheek.

"That desk—"

Harry thought back to the mahogany drink table and supposed that yes, it could have been a desk or drawer of some sort.

"What about it?"

"I… I've seen that desk. In my past," Malfoy stuttered.

Harry tried to think back to when that could've been. It wasn't when Malfoy and the Inquisitorial Squad had barged in on them, it couldn't have been 6th year with the cabinets he had been mending… the feeling of dread began to return to Harry as he realised that there was only one more instance that he could remember Malfoy ever being in the Room of Requirement. He gazed at Draco meaningfully, understanding a little clearer as to why the boy had reacted the way he had right after the vision, with the choked breathing, the wide eyes, and the locked body movements. It was all too horribly obvious. But Harry still had to ask, in hopes that maybe he was wrong. Gods, he hoped he was wrong.

"Where, Draco?" he asked quietly.

Malfoy's face scrunched up in grief and terror. His fists were balled up so tightly that it looked painful.

"I was… I was hanging from it. Over a fire," he choked.

Harry gasped. The Fiendfyre! He took Malfoy's hands and laced his fingers with his so that he could not clench them any longer, silently urging him to go on.

"Me… and Goyle… and…"—there was a suppressed sound of a sob—"C-c-crabbe… he cast a spell and the whole room was on fire and we were climbing, climbing—and Crabbe, he..." –deep breath— "he fell and I was on top of that desk and it tilted and I slipped and then you… you…"

Harry nodded and Malfoy lunged forward, grasping his waist.

"I know, I know. Shh, I'm sorry," he consoled, brushing blond strands of hair away from the boy's forehead.

Harry started to lean back and pry Malfoy away from him a little in order to breathe correctly, but Malfoy's head shot up.

"Potter!" he shrieked, gripping him even tighter.

Harry cringed as he remembered that exact word and tone of voice when he had come back to rescue him. How detailed were these visions? He feared that it went down to every last element and emotion, judging by the way that Malfoy was reacting right now. Oh gods, this was terrible. Much worse than he ever imagined.

"You haven't been like this since that night," he whispered.

Malfoy looked at him wretchedly.

"You mean, that was real?"

Harry paused then nodded, and Malfoy buried his face in Harry's shirt and cried. Harry didn't know exactly which aspect he was crying about—his near-death experience, his wicked motives, or his close friend's horrific demise—or maybe a combination of everything. He remembered how awful it was the first time, how would it feel to have to relive every second of those few petrifying minutes without warning, preparation, or knowledge of it?

"Oh gods," Malfoy bawled, digging his face into Harry's shoulder as if he could erase the flashback from his memory by doing so. "I can't believe…"

Harry just sighed and ran his fingers through Malfoy's hair in what he hoped was a soothing manner. This was going to be a tough one to get through. Harry didn't have much to say but thankfully, Malfoy didn't expect him to and they sat like that for a long time, holding each other. Harry absently wondered whether or not the people around them were curious as to what they were doing on the dark couches, alone. He didn't really want to know.

After a while, the boy stopped crying and looked up at him with a curious expression.

"You told me that I've never been in here before," Draco murmured slowly.

Harry gulped. "I didn't want to scare you."

"You lied to me…" Malfoy's eyes were starting to flash with accusation, "and you brought me here when you _knew _what happened to me in this room? What happened to both of us! Why would you do that?"

"I didn't think you'd remember! I thought that maybe you could create new, better memories of this room—"

"You didn't think I'd remember this?" Malfoy waved his arms in several directions around him, frantically. "When you're hanging off a desk for your life a hundred feet up from a violent, unstoppable fire that just engulfed one of your best friends, you don't forget that feeling! You just don't!"

Harry bit his lip so hard that it started to bleed. "I'm sorry!"

"Sorry that you lied to me? Sorry that you couldn't stop the fire? Or sorry that you couldn't save him?" Malfoy snarled. The look of pure rage on his face was sickeningly familiar to Harry and he looked away.

"Sorry that I couldn't protect you," he murmured.

"What?"

"Sorry that I couldn't protect you," Harry repeated louder, "sorry that I didn't try harder to save him. Sorry that I couldn't stop that moment from ever existing at all."

Malfoy shook his head. "I don't know what to think," he mumbled.

"I was there too, Draco. It's as much my memory as it is yours. You are not alone in this, I'm trying to help you—"

"You lied to me," Malfoy reiterated, "you say you're going to help me and you lied to me. How am I ever supposed to regain my old life back if you're sitting there deciding which aspects of my memory should make the cut?"

"I didn't want to hurt you with unnecessary memories if there was a chance that you wouldn't recall them—"

"_Unnecessary?_" Malfoy echoed in disbelief. "How is any of that unnecessary? That was my _life_, Harry! You _can't_ censor my life!"

"I just want you to have the option of starting over, Draco! I don't want you to be forever haunted by the things in your past if you don't have to be. I'm sorry that I lied, I just wanted you to have a chance at a happy life," Harry whispered.

Malfoy shook his head slowly. "I don't know who or what to believe anymore," he muttered. "Maybe this is all just one big elaborate lie. I'm jumping into this blindly, so I wouldn't know left from right. How do I know that this is not all just some sick ploy of yours? You hated me, didn't you? Who's to say that you're not just getting your revenge on me?"

"I would never do that, Draco. I wouldn't hurt you like that!"

_I'll never have the capability to again._

"I can't trust that you won't," Malfoy said, his voice somewhat hollow.

Harry felt those words hit him like a physical blow in the chest. He didn't know what to say, because in his heart he knew what Malfoy said was completely true. _He's right. I can't be trusted. I wouldn't trust me, either._ He tried to imagine the betrayal he would feel if he was in Malfoy's situation, how vulnerable and miserable and terrified he must be. But as much as Harry tried, he knew that he would never be able to fully comprehend the nightmare the other boy was going through. He thought that he could protect Malfoy, but how could he protect him from himself? The other boy got up to leave and looked back at him as if he were expecting him to say something, but Harry couldn't defend himself. He wanted to, but he couldn't.

Because when it came down to it, Malfoy was all alone.

**Author's Note: Okay! So originally this was supposed to be a cutesy filler chapter, but then I started writing and apparently my brain just automatically wants to write angst and here we are. Anyways, for the Fiendfyre scene, I used a random mixture of things from the book, the movie, and the weird places in my mind. Okay? So no confusion there, I hope. **

**Oh, and I had to throw in the little cliché part about the candy kisses. Because I love those clichés. So, if you love clichés too then review! And if you don't… review anyway because otherwise muggles will come and eat your soul okay? Yeah. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: I forgot to put a nice little discussion topic at the end of my last chapter! Gah! I'll put an extra special one at the end of this one, I promise! I don't know about you, but I love them. **

Chapter 6

Draco sat on the couch in the common room and stared at the fireplace gloomily. It had been exactly a week since he and Harry had gotten into that fight, and stopped speaking. Harry had tried to talk to him a couple of times right after it happened, but at that point Draco was still angry and had blatantly ignored him. Now, he wished that he hadn't. Harry didn't try to talk to him anymore, but he hadn't disappeared. He was still following Draco's schedule, and he still lent a (silent) hand whenever Draco needed it in class. It was almost like having a little mute ghost helper.

But that wasn't what he wanted, what he wanted was his friend back. His Harry. He wanted to talk about what happened, but Harry never spoke more than a few words to him and never touched him, as if he had an invisible force field keeping him from doing so. And apparently, it was one of Draco's best traits to stay proud and silent and he couldn't bring himself to start the conversation himself, no matter how much he wanted to. Draco bit his lip and sighed. Harry obviously didn't want to bother him before he was ready. It wasn't like he had given up on him. Right?

At that point, the portrait door swung open and Blaise walked in with a book tucked under his arm, heading towards the dorms. But when he spotted Draco on the couch, he immediately changed paths and went to sit down on the couch next to him. Draco was grateful for how understanding the other Slytherin boy had been for this entire ordeal, because he was always here for Draco even when he had other things that he could be doing. Especially now that Harry wasn't particularly part of the picture anymore.

"Hey," Blaise greeted, placing his book on the low glass table in front of them.

Draco nodded towards the book. "Whatcha got there?"

"Extra reading material for the potion we made today. Want to borrow it after I'm finished? Oh wait," Blaise shook his head and smirked, "you're shit at potions now, I forgot."

"Ha, ha. You're hilarious."

"Yeah, I know. It's a good thing that Snape didn't make you clean up your potion after it exploded, right? Potter probably had a wonderful time scraping that gunk off the floor during lunch."

Draco sighed. "If I had been listening to him in the first place, he wouldn't have to stay after to do that."

Blaise shrugged. "Maybe. So I'm guessing that he still hasn't talked to you about what happened yet."

"No. Nor has he made any effort to."

"Well, neither have you," Blaise pointed out helpfully. When Draco scowled at him, he patted him on the knee sympathetically. "But you don't need him anyways. You've got me!"

"Sorry, but you're not half as attractive as he is."

Blaise widened his chocolate-coloured eyes and gasped.

"Take that_ back_!"

"No," Draco replied stubbornly, even though he knew perfectly well that it wasn't true. Blaise was quite a good-looking bloke, even if he wasn't exactly Draco's type. Well, he didn't really know what his type was before the accident but as if now, he wasn't his type. Plus Blaise didn't swing that way, as far as he knew, anyways.

"You're a real prat, you know that?" Blaise grumbled, folding his arms across his chest and pursing his lips. "I don't even know why I bother with you!"

"Because you love me."

Blaise snorted. "Yeah, for some barmy reason, I do." He leaned back onto the cushions and glanced at Draco meaningfully. "So what are you going to do, really?"

Draco examined his fingernails. "I don't know. I mean, I want to talk to him, I do. But he was wrong for lying to me when he knows how unstable my memory is. I want to trust him, but I don't know if I can."

"I may not like him, but I know that Potter is a good bloke," Blaise remarked, gazing into the fireplace as he continued. "I wouldn't be surprised if he genuinely believed that he was doing the right thing by not telling you the truth. It's that hero thing he's got going on, you know? He wants to save you or some shit like that. Besides, everybody makes mistakes, even the great Harry Potter. I think that he could use some slack."

"I know, but I'm so conflicted. I just have a lot many emotions going through me right now, like I'm angry at him for lying to me and I don't want to listen to his explanations but at the same time I'm upset because he _won't _talk to me, and miserable because I don't know who the fuck I am and then there's just this constant undercurrent of yearning to get into his pants."

Blaise made a face.

"That is like the weirdest emotion I have ever heard of," he remarked.

Draco gave him a look. "I just, I think I need to know more about him, you know? Before I can make any proper decisions. I want to know about our relationship before, because I know that we hated each other but I don't really have any details. How did I really feel about this, how did he? What sort of things did we fight about? How come it was so easy for him to transition from that fiery hatred for me to being my friend?"

Blaise turned and looked at him. "I wish I could help you with all that, but honestly, we hadn't become very good friends until we were well into the war and by that time your world wasn't as centered on Potter as it had been during most of our school years. Maybe you should ask Pansy, you two were much closer back then."

"Ask me what?"

Draco turned around and saw the brunette coming down the stairs from the girls' dorm. She narrowed her eyes at Blaise. "If you ask me to describe my body parts to you again, Blaise, so help me I will tear off your—"

"It's not that," Blaise cut in quickly, his skin turning a shade paler than it had been before with her threat. "Draco needs memory help."

Pansy brightened at the notion and came to sit beside them.

"Okay, what do you want to know, Draco?"

"Everything about me and Harry during our school years. I want to know about every fight, every emotion, every rant I had about him. Please?"

She raised her eyebrows. "That would take years. Besides, not every one of them was very important. You essentially bitched about him for 8 years straight."

Blaise pumped his fist in agreement.

"Hear, hear!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Come on, there must have been something specific you can remember."

"Well, I recall in second year you dueled with him in front of everyone, but that was strictly for school purposes. Then you made up rumours about him in fourth year and handed out 'Potter Stinks' buttons around the school while he was competing in the Tournament. Those were really funny, actually. It's a shame you can't remember them. Hm, what else," she tapped her chin thoughtfully before her eyes lit up. "Oh, yeah! You busted him and his Dumbledore's Army in fifth year, that was pretty sweet. Gods, he was so mad!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Okay, I get that I was a huge prick, but was there anything else you remember other than my frequent terrorising of him?"

She shrugged. "It was just how you were raised. But let's see. I have to say, you were quite obsessed with him. Like, unhealthily so. He was all you could talk about, and really Draco, you talk _a lot._ It was always 'Potter this, Potter that'. But you always got angry whenever we mentioned it."

Draco was quiet for a bit. It had always been clear that he had some sort of strong feelings for Harry. The moment that he saw him after the accident, he knew that there was something about the boy that made his heart race. He had just assumed that it was because Harry was very attractive, but that might not have been the case. Well, not entirely, anyway. Still, his old self was a like a puzzle to him. He seemed like a cold, hard bastard, but somehow Draco knew that there was something more. Something else that his old self had hid from his friends, maybe even from himself at some points, that Draco could not yet distinguish. But it was there. He was sure of it.

Draco had to admit, he was curious. He could not stop himself from asking.

"By 'obsessed', do you mean that I was infatuated with him? Or at least thought he was fit?"

Pansy snorted. "No, not really, though I suppose you could have been. You were always just talking about him. I guess you felt the need to update us on every little aspect of his life like it was some sort of method of contempt, I don't know."

"Hmm," was all he said. He lay back and closed his eyes, but not before he caught the exchange of looks between his two friends over his head.

"Maybe you should go talk to him," Pansy suggested quietly.

Draco just made a noncommittal noise.

"It might be good for you," Blaise added.

Draco sighed and cracked open one eye to observe the worried faces of his friends. Then he closed them again.

"We'll see."

**~x~**

_Okay, here goes_.

Harry took a deep breath and turned into the corridor that led to the Slytherin dungeons. It was time to finally confront Malfoy about last week. He ignored the random students staring at him as he raced down the hallway. The guilt was threatening to eat him alive. He couldn't hold back any longer, he would just have to deal with any consequences that Malfoy threw at him. He would get down on his knees and _beg _to be forgiven, if that's what it took, because he had made a promise to be there the whole time and he would be, damn it!

"Potter!"

Harry tripped and fell in surprise at a commanding voice whose tone bit like a lashing whip. He looked up and of course, found Snape standing above him with one black eyebrow raised.

"What?" He tried not to sound irritable, but he really did need to get to Slytherin and apologise before he exploded.

"Come here, I need to show you something."

The professor disappeared into his classroom, and Harry sighed, wistfully glancing down the corridor where the Slytherin portrait hole was located. Snape poked his greasy head back out through the doorway.

"_Now,_ Potter."

Harry quickly entered the classroom and automatically sat down at his station, as if he were getting ready for lessons. Then he looked up at Snape expectantly.

"Yes?"

Snape pulled a small vial out of his robes and handed it to him. Harry peered at it, but it was empty.

"Uh, what's this?"

"It will be for Draco's cure," Snape replied, turning away to walk back over to his desk. "When I am finished with it."

Harry raised his eyebrows in curiousity. He had forgotten that Snape was working on that.

"How's that going, anyway?"

"None of your business," Snape snapped. He glared at Harry like it was his fault that it wasn't his business, which was a highly illogical thought in itself anyway.

"Then what do I need this for?" Harry asked, holding out the vial. "A keepsake?"

Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his crooked nose. "No, Potter. Since you have so doggedly insisted on aiding Mr. Malfoy during his condition, you may distribute the potion to him when I have perfected it. Until then, I would like you to keep it."

"So… like a keepsake."

Snape looked like he was going to yell at him, but apparently decided to change his mind. He pointed to the door.

"That is all. You will leave now."

Harry didn't have to be told twice. He tucked the vial into his book bag and ran for the door. But before he could make it any further, he heard Snape call out at him. "It is almost curfew, Mr. Potter! It would be such a shame if you got caught breaking it."

Harry slowed down and groaned, having been reminded of the time. He couldn't sneak into the Slytherin common room now that it was almost curfew, because this was when most students lounged around in there before bed. No, he had to wait. Gods, he_ hated_ waiting. Shooting a silent glare in the direction of the Potions classroom, Harry reluctantly turned around and headed back towards Gryffindor.

When he stepped into the common room, a small group greeted him with cheers.

"Harry!" Seamus Finnigan exclaimed. He waved at him to come over. "Good to see you mate!"

"We're playing a game," Ron added, gesturing towards a bottle that was on the table in front of them.

Harry grinned and walked over to them. Seamus, Ron, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom were sitting around the small table, all wearing huge smiles on their faces. He glanced at the bottle again and realised that it was Firewhiskey, and that they were all at least slightly tipsy. Normally, he didn't like to drink but it might be fun, seeing as it was just a small group of his best guy friends. He needed to get his mind off things anyhow.

"What are you playing?"

Dean let out a small hiccup before answering.

"Would You Rather. It's a really fun game, Harry, it's so fun. I'm having so much fun."

Harry nodded seriously. "I bet it is," he said, winking at them. "Count me in."

Ron scooted over and made room for him. "Let me do one for you, Harry! Um… Would you rather be forced to eat a bucket of flobberworms or go swimming in the lake naked?"

Harry thought of the wiggly creature and shuddered. "Go swimming naked."

The other boys giggled and poured him a sloshy cup of Firewhiskey. He glanced down at it in confusion.

"So what's this for?" he asked.

Neville shrugged. "We're just drinking one for every question, mate!"

After a couple of rounds of ridiculous, sometimes lewd questions, Harry was pleasantly buzzed and feeling quite content with himself. And with the rest of the group. And with the world. And with life in general. But just as Ron was contemplating whether he would shag Luna or Parvati, the portrait hole swung open and the whole group turned their heads to see whom it was. The entrance was empty. Ron sighed in relief, probably grateful that it hadn't been Hermione or one of the girls who would scold them for getting drunk in the common room. But Harry frowned. There was something strangely familiar about the situation, but his slightly drunk mind refused to decipher anything at the moment. He shrugged and turned back to the game as Seamus called his name.

"Haaaaaarrrrrehhhh," he slurred, making his Irish accent sound much more distinct. "Would you rather… erm, snog Neville," he giggled drunkenly, "or Ron?"

Ron made a sputtering noise. "He's dating my sister!"

"You should pick Ron!"

"Neville!"

"Both!"

The other boys started laughing as Ron's face turned as red as his hair. Harry shook his head and tried not to smile.

"Neville. Sorry, Ron, but I'm dating your sister," he mimicked.

Ron looked a bit pissed for a moment, but then he smiled, relaxing. "Okay, since you're all so interested in snogging blokes, how about a universal question, yeah?" Everybody nodded enthusiastically. "Snog Cedric Diggory or Malfoy?"

"Cedric's dead, mate! That's messed up!"

"So? What if he wasn't?"

Dean shrugged. "Regardless of his lack of life at the moment, Cedric was always quite attractive for a bloke. I'd probably snog him."

Neville nodded. "Me too."

"As long as I'm not snogging Malfoy."

Ron nodded in agreement with Seamus, then looked at Harry.

"Well?"

Harry grinned. "I'd snog Malfoy." Everybody stared at him in a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "What? None of you will snog him, and I happen to actually like him! He's nice now."

Ron shook his head. "But you're dating my sister!" he argued again.

"You asked the question," Harry pointed out. Then he bit his lip in an attempt to keep a straight face. "Plus, he's fit."

Before anybody could respond to that, a small noise that sounded like something falling came from the corner and everybody turned around in shock.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked nervously. The others looked at each other and shook their heads.

Then Harry suddenly remembered what he was supposed to remember before and frowned. Could it be? As the rest of the group watched, he got up cautiously and inched over to the corner, sloppily pulling his wand out of his robes and holding it in front of him. "Finite Incantatem!" he yelled. Harry gasped as a huddled up figure appeared before him on the ground in the form of Draco Malfoy. _Disillusionment charm._ So he was right! He knew it was only a matter of time before Malfoy had figured out the password to the Gryffindor common room and attempted to sneak in, like Harry had done in Slytherin. He nudged Malfoy a little with his foot, but the boy didn't move.

"What is _he_ doing in here?" Ron asked, looking scandalised.

"Dunno. He seems to be unconscious."

Harry nudged him again before squatting down to get a closer look. He brushed blond strands of hair away from Malfoy's eyes and forehead. "Hey, Malfoy? Draco? Can you hear me?" He turned back to the group of boys, who were all watching him with concerned fascination. "Help me move him to the couch."

Neville and Dean scurried over to help him as Seamus and Ron cleared the couch of empty Firewhiskey bottles. Harry gently lay Malfoy's head down on a pillow and sat on the edge of the couch to keep him from rolling off.

Seamus cleared his throat. "You know, I'm kind of uncomfortable with the fact that there was a Slytherin in here while we were playing the game, so I think we should call it a night."

The others nodded in agreement and stood up to head back to the boys' dormitories. Harry didn't move as he watched them go towards the stairs.

"You coming, mate?" Neville called over his shoulder.

"No, I'll stay here until he wakes up," Harry replied.

Neville nodded and quietly bid him good-night before disappearing up the staircase. Once Harry was alone, he glanced back down at Malfoy again and shook his head. If he had stooped to sneaking into the Gryffindor common room in the middle of the night, it was clear that Malfoy was ready to talk. Harry smiled softly and ran his hand down Malfoy's cheek. Trust the Slytherin to finally make it into the lion's den only to end up passing out on the floor. He wondered absently why he had fainted in the first place. Hopefully it wasn't a bad flashback.

Suddenly, Malfoy's blond eyelashes fluttered and he opened his eyes, blinking in bewilderment.

"Where….?" He noticed Harry sitting above him and he started in surprise. "Oh!"

Harry chuckled. "Hello, sunshine. Did you have a nice nap on the floor?"

Malfoy looked chagrinned for a moment before sticking out his chin defiantly.

"It was quite nice, thank you."

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. "So I'm guessing it's time to talk?"

Malfoy instantly became more reserved and looked up at the ceiling as he responded. "I guess it is."

Harry nodded, waiting for him to go on. He knew that as much as he wanted to get his points across and make up already, it was Malfoy's right to start and Harry would grant that. "I want to say that I understand why you lied. I probably would have done the same thing. That doesn't mean I'm not upset about it, because I am, but everybody makes mistakes and I know that you meant well. I just… I'm still trying to cope with my problem. It's hard."

"I did mean well, but I am sorry that I did it anyway. You were right, I don't have the right to decide whether you should remember something or not and it was wrong of me to assume so. I just want you to be happy for once, Draco. Merlin knows you deserve it."

Malfoy gazed up at him with an unreadable expression for a few moments.

"You know, you may just be the most amazing, selfless person I have ever met," he remarked.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Considering you don't remember most of them, that's not saying much. But thank you."

Malfoy's grey eyes twinkled and something in them made Harry smile automatically. He giggled, quite girlishly. The other boy raised an eyebrow.

"Are you drunk?"

"Maybe."

"Merlin. Well, that explains it."

"Explains what?"

Malfoy pointed to his face. "Your ridiculous smile. One might mistake that as a sign of infatuation, Harry."

"That would mean I'm infatuated with you," Harry teased back. He noticed that Malfoy's face turned a lovely shade of light pink.

"Well, you did say I was fit," he muttered.

"Eavesdropper!" Harry accused, trying very hard not to giggle again as he fake-glared at him. "Besides, you bloody well know that you are!"

Malfoy's mouth curved into the smirk that Harry hadn't seen in a long time. It was unnerving and oddly appealing at the same time.

"Cute enough to snog?"

Harry grinned and leaned in, suddenly feeling a strong urge to do just that.

"Yes," he breathed.

Malfoy's eyes widened comically as Harry leaned in closer. "No—no," he protested weakly. "I was kidding. Don't…" Just as their lips were just about to touch, Malfoy screwed his eyes shut and pushed him away. "Harry, stop!"

Harry sat back on his heels, utterly confused. Why was he being told to stop? He shouldn't stop. Nothing in the world seemed less appealing than stopping.

"Your girlfriend," Malfoy reminded quietly. His cheeks were pink again.

Oh. Actually, that _did_ seem less appealing.

Harry sighed and lay back on a cushion. His head ached with the promise of a nasty hangover in the morning and he was suddenly exhausted. Malfoy noticed his discomfort and sat up to touch his forehead. Harry winced. Ouch. Why did he decide to drink again?

"Let's get you up to bed," Malfoy urged, pushing at him a little towards the stairs. Harry tried to sit back up, but whenever he moved his head a little ring of stars danced in front of his eyes and made him blind. Seeing that Harry could not move, Malfoy shook his head and got up, moving him into a more comfortable position before turning to leave.

"Wait!" Harry called, his tongue feeling fuzzy and heavy in his mouth. "Don't go!"

Malfoy sighed and came back, sitting down on the edge where Harry had sat before. "I'll stay with you until you fall asleep, then I have to go back to Slytherin. Okay?"

Harry nodded sleepily and tugged at his sleeve.

"Lie down."

The other boy gave him a worried look, but complied anyways by leaning back on the armrest next to him. Harry wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him closer, feeling the urge to cuddle. "Towards me," he whispered. Malfoy sighed again, twisting around so that they were face to face, and then Harry hugged him tight. "Stay."

The other boy chuckled softly and ruffled his hair in a way that was almost tender.

"Of course."

Harry drifted off to sleep, neither noticing when the heat of Malfoy's body left him or when a strong pair of arms lifted him from the couch and brought him to his bed in the dorm room.

**~x~**

Harry woke up again with a throbbing headache and groaned. He buried his face in his pillow and willed the pain to go away. It was such a stupid idea for him to drink like that, and on a school night! Merlin, what was he even thinking? Hermione was going to go mental when she found out. And Ginny… he didn't even want to think about that.

Light poured into his eyes when the bed curtains were pulled apart to reveal Neville standing there with a bottle in his hand. Harry peered up at him with tired eyes.

"Here, drink up," the boy instructed, shoving the liquid under his nose. Harry recognised the scent as hangover potion, so he brought it to his lips eagerly and downed the whole bottle. The pain instantly ebbed until it was merely a dull ache. Then he smiled at his friend.

"Thanks, Nev," he said.

Neville waved him off. "Nah, it wasn't me." He held out a small piece of paper to him. "Seems like we weren't as sly as we thought we were. This came with the antidote bottles."

Harry glanced at the note.

_Ron, you honestly didn't expect to get away with smuggling Firewhiskey into the castle without me discovering it, did you? _

_All of you guys are idiots, by the way._

_Love, _

_Hermione_

He shook his head and looked back up at Neville, who shrugged. "There was one for each of us. I'm not sure whether to be afraid of her or to bow down at her feet."

Harry grinned. "Being friends with her, you get a rather large dose of both practically every day."

Neville gave him a small smile in return, and then looked around. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yeah, sure."

Neville climbed onto the bed so that he was facing him. Then he closed the bed curtains and muttered a quick Silencing charm. Harry watched him curiously. What was Neville being so secretive about? "What are you doing?"

The other boy finished his charms and then hesitated before continuing.

"Did you know that you came dangerously close to snogging Draco Malfoy last night?"

Harry stared at him in shock. "What? No! I didn't even… no!"

Neville nodded resignedly. "Yes, you did. And it was you, too. You were all leaning in and stuff and he was getting all freaked out…"

Harry's mouth dropped open and he could feel his cheeks heating up. _He _had drunkenly attempted to seduce Malfoy? Gods, he was never going to drink ever again. What had he been thinking? _He probably regrets coming to Gryffindor_, Harry thought miserably. _And making up with me._ He shook his head. Had he ruined his chances of making ends meet with the Slytherin with his reckless drunken advances? Merlin, the boy probably thought he was an idiot.

Neville patted his shoulder, letting him stay silent in humiliation. "Sorry, mate. I went back down to check on you because it had been a while, and I walked in on you two being very… close. You didn't notice me for the longest time, though. I brought you back to bed after Malfoy left."

Harry felt like diving under his covers again and never coming out.

"My life is over," he wailed, falling back onto his pillow with a soft thud.

"It'll be okay, I don't think that the new Malfoy will be angry about it. Maybe a bit confused, but you can fix that. I didn't tell any of the others about it, either. Figured you would probably want to keep it to yourself."

Harry peeked up at his friend and gave him a tiny, grateful smile. "Thank you, Nev. Now leave me here to die."

"Nope, you're coming with me to breakfast," Neville said firmly, tugging at his arm to get him out of bed. Harry glared at him and refused to budge. But since the other boy was much bigger and stronger than he was, he ended up losing the battle and trudging off to the washrooms in a huff. Sometimes he loved Neville, but other times, he wanted to kick him in the arse for being so damn good.

**~x~**

"He did _what?_" Blaise screeched, causing a plethora of students to turn and stare at them. Draco shot him a stern look and the boy lowered his voice. "He _kissed_ you?"

"Well, he tried. I pushed him away," Draco glanced around the table quickly to make sure that none of their Housemates were listening anymore. "He was drunk."

"So? You fancy him, don't you? Tap that and go! It's not like he would've remembered it."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Has it ever occurred to you that I might want more than that?"

Blaise looked lost for a moment, then he scoffed. "That's a good one. Hilarious. Stop it. You're Draco Malfoy! Hit it and run!"

"That's disgusting, Blaise."

"I'm serious! You'd do it like that before—" he made some rude gestures with his hands, causing a 6th year girl to glare at him, "—and all the blokes loved it."

"You have issues."

"_You_ have issues! If I were you, I'd have shagged him all fucking night. In his own common room. Oh, that's golden."

"Shagged who?" Pansy asked, setting her bag down on the seat next to him. Nott and Goyle followed her and sat across from them.

He and Blaise exchanged looks. "Oh, nobody. He's just talking about something he read in the newspaper," Draco lied.

Pansy raised one eyebrow knowingly but did not say more. Draco shot her a grateful smile and turned to his plate, deciding to focus on his string of sausages instead. But when he looked up next, he saw Harry slumping into the Great Hall looking dejected and worn out. Then as if he'd felt Draco's gaze, the other boy glanced over at him immediately and his eyes met wide green ones. Harry quickly looked away and sat down in his seat next to his girlfriend, but Draco could see the rosy colour of his cheeks all the way from the Slytherin table.

He bit his lip. So apparently, Harry had remembered last night, because he wouldn't be acting like that if he hadn't. Draco glanced down at his plate, suddenly not hungry anymore. What if Harry didn't want to help him at all because he was too embarrassed? What if he had discovered that Draco had feelings for him and didn't want to talk to him ever again?

Pansy nudged his shoulder lightly. "You okay? You suddenly got all colourless."

Draco took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine."

But he couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of Ginny feeding Harry a piece of bread, and he held his breath as she kissed him on the cheek lovingly. Those green eyes shifted without warning to meet his again and he hastily looked away, mortified to be caught ogling the couple.

When he looked back again, Harry was just staring at his plate of food, seemingly deep in thought and a bit lost. He wondered if his old self had ever sat here during breakfast, watching Harry as he was now, and thinking about how beautifully tragic his entire situation was. He was too close to ignore him, but too far to touch him. Sort of like everything else that had been a part of old Draco's life. It was a sad existence, really, being so close but so far. He suddenly had a burst of sympathy for himself. It may be true that he used to be an arrogant git, but there was something undeniably vacant and haunted about him as well. Draco wanted to know more about this boy that people used to fear, used to hate, used to judge. But he was sort of afraid that if he did, he might fear, hate, and judge himself too.

**Author's Note: I'm tired and I regret nothing.**

**So guys, tell me everything you love about Drarry. Tell me why and when you started shipping them, why you think they work so well, ideal situations, kinks, stories, anything, really. I want to hear it! Personally, I started shipping Drarry about a year and a half ago, and I started writing about a year ago. I started shipping it because, well first, it's an incredibly hot pairing and second, the potential dynamics of their relationship is amazing. I love that they are complete opposites. Like light and dark, strong and weak, and even the tiny bits like blond hair to dark hair. I love the idea that they get over their differences despite that or _because _of that. And don't you just love that tragic star-crossed lovers type of thing? Slytherin and Gryffindor, thou shalt never cross! But alas, they should. **

**I could write pages and pages of why I love these two, but I'll stop there and let your imagination go on with it. If you know my blog, then you can see more of my Drarry preferences and blah blah blah. Thanks for reading, guys! I'm too lazy to make up some dumb excuse for why you should review. You should just review. Because. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Thank you all for your amazing reviews and opinions on Drarry! I have to say, they were just downright beautiful and if it's even possible, made me ship them more. I love that we've all been connected through our mutual loves for Draco and Harry. Love these boys for bringing us together… and for being so _hot!_ ;)**

Chapter 7

"Here, let me help you with that."

Harry almost dropped the ladle he was clutching when he felt arms wrap around him and a pair of hands cover his, gently guiding them in the way that they should stir the potion in the cauldron in front of him. He turned his head to grin at the blond owner of the hands.

"Thanks, Draco. I see you've regained your potion skills quite nicely."

The boy's grey eyes shone with pride and gratitude. "Well, you know that I've been doing after-class sessions with Professor Snape. I figure that my grades shouldn't suffer just because of my condition." He smiled. "You really think that I'm doing good?"

Harry nodded. "Better than I ever could. Which means that you're almost back to normal," he joked.

Malfoy laughed and squeezed his hand lightly. "I could live with that. Just continue stirring like this, okay? I've got to grab a few more ingredients."

Harry couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed when the comforting guidance of Malfoy's hands left his and he was on his own again. They had been teaming up for most of their potion's assignments in the past few weeks so that Harry could assist Malfoy in his studies, but the Slytherin boy had quickly learned the material with very little help on Harry's part. It was almost like old times whenever he pointed out a mistake that Harry was making, except that now he wasn't cruel or smug about it.

Malfoy came back from the supply pantry with an armful of roots and jars, giving Harry a small half smile as he set them down on the table.

"All right," he said, glancing around. "Now, here. Cut up these roots and put them into the potion at 3 second intervals, okay?"

Harry nodded, picking up a knife to do what he was told but Malfoy made a little 'tsk' noise and shook his head. "No, no. Slice them thinner and at an angle. Like this," Harry let him lead him in cutting the roots in a precise, graceful manner that he'd never seen his own hands do before. "See that? Much neater. You've got it? Good."

Harry didn't normally like to be told what to do, but for some reason, he didn't mind it when Malfoy did. It was curious though, because he would think that the Slytherin boy would be the last person he'd want to take directions from, yet now he took them gladly. Besides, he liked the feel of Malfoy's hands. They were soft and gentle, and the very opposite of his old personality.

And that led him to also notice that Malfoy was very physical when it came to Potions. He would always instruct Harry by literally holding his hand throughout the whole process, and he'd even pat him on the back or shoulder if he was congratulating Harry on doing something right (which was a rare occasion). Actually, now that he thought about it, the Slytherin boy had become quite touchy-feely ever since the drunken almost-kiss incident a while back. The incident that they had never even discussed, though Harry was fairly sure that Malfoy was aware that he remembered it.

He'd been extremely grateful when the boy hadn't said anything about it the next day and his respect level for him had raised, as he obviously had not tried to take advantage of Harry (Not that he would have anyway; Malfoy wasn't interested in him like that). Yet, he sort of wished that they could talk about it. Not just because, as friends or whatever, it would be healthier for them to talk it out but also because Harry was genuinely curious as to what Malfoy's reaction had been. Had he been disgusted? Appalled? Terrified? _Happy?_

He looked up at Malfoy's smiling, approving expression and shook his head. Maybe he didn't want to know, if it would ruin what they had right now. Plus, he didn't like to think about it because it messed with his head too much. It was easier to think of lighter things, like homework and food, Ginny and slicing roots the proper way. Things that he was rather certain were safe topics to think about.

"You okay?"

Harry's mind snapped back into the Potion's classroom as his wandering gaze met Malfoy's worried one. The blond's eyes searched his with anxiety and he appeared as though he'd been watching him gawk off into space for quite some time now. Harry supposed that he'd probably zoned out for longer than he'd expected and felt bad for leaving Malfoy and the potion hanging. He quickly scooped up his finished roots and began to plop them into the cauldron as instructed.

"I'm good, sorry. Just daydreaming."

"All right, if you say so," Malfoy rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Hey, do you happen to have anything to eat with you right now? I skipped breakfast and I'm starving."

Harry nodded towards his book bag lying on the ground by his feet as he dropped another root slice into the cauldron. It hissed nicely and disappeared into the mixture. "I've got a few frogs in there. Oh yeah, I noticed that you didn't come down this morning. Had a late start, did you?"

"Yeah. Didn't sleep very well."

Harry glanced at him sharply. Malfoy hadn't been having any negative flashbacks since the RoR incident, at least to his knowledge, but they could pop up anytime. He was determined to be ready for the chaos if it happened.

"Bad flashbacks?"

Malfoy waved him off. "Not bad ones. I had a few, because they have been coming every day now, as you know. They're really brief, but afterwards I can't help but stay up and just reflect upon them. Try and fit them into this idea I have of how my life might have been."

"Hm… what were they this time?"

"Um, one was of my first Quidditch game here at Hogwarts. It was exhilarating but you were a real arse, you know that? I suppose that I was too, though." Harry chuckled a little as he continued. "Another one was of a random day at Hogsmeade, which had been quite enjoyable if I watched it correctly. Though I have a sad feeling that that particular flashback hadn't been real. And the last was of a Christmas I spent at the Manor." He smiled sadly. "I'm still trying to decide whether or not I can forgive them. My parents, I mean. They seemed to have loved me, but I don't really know the full story, do I? I really want to believe they loved me."

Harry stopped adding roots and turned to him seriously. For some reason, he suddenly had the feeling that he should stand up for Malfoy's parent's actions. And it wasn't like he ever liked them; it was actually rather obvious that he had barely bothered to tolerate them at all. But he still felt the need to defend them. He felt like it was his duty to Malfoy.

"Your parents… they made mistakes, but they're only human. You can't doubt that they cared about you very much. I didn't know any of you very well, evidently, but even I could see that you were devoted to each other. They were loyal to you as you were loyal to them, and I always believed that that was the reason why you and I could never get on. It was your family and your priorities that meant the world to you and you refused to leave them behind. As much as I disliked you, I couldn't help but respect you just a little for that. If I was brave, you were even braver for sticking by your family even when times were tough."

Malfoy smiled a bit. "That means a lot to me considering that you and I clearly didn't support the same ideas back then. But there's just something about my parents that makes me feel undeniably sad, and I don't know why. I want to believe that they were good people, but it's just hard to see that when all I've got is a trail of wickedness blackening their names."

"I know, but I just want you to see that there's not only one side of a story. You _are _allowed to have an opinion. You obviously had one before and it's not a crime to recreate it. If you want to believe that they were good people, believe it. You don't have to go by just what people tell you."

Malfoy nodded, and then pointed at something over his head.

"As inspirational as you are being right now, Harry, I'm going to have to stop you there because the potion is about to explode."

Harry frowned. "What?"

Malfoy suddenly lunged forward, pushing him out of the way just before a flood of shimmery gold liquid came hurtling out of the cauldron. Harry stared at the slimy substance covering their entire work area and the floor surrounding it.

"Merlin! Thanks, Draco. Who knows what that could've done to me?"

The other boy smiled and brushed off his robes. "You'd probably be bald for about a week as this was not a hair-friendly potion. I told you 3 second intervals for those roots." He made a 'tsk-ing' noise again. "Ah, well. What's done is done."

Harry was about to smile and agree when he heard the swishing of robes behind him and turned around. "Fantastic work, Potter," Snape spat sarcastically. "You've managed to out-do yourself once again. That's a zero for today's assignment." The sallow man turned to Malfoy, who was looking quite sorrowful. "Full credit for you, Mr. Malfoy. Your grade should not have to suffer just because your partner is a complete _imbecile._"

Harry balked indignantly. "But we're working on the same assignment, that's not fair!" Snape didn't even blink an eyelash at his protests and walked away briskly without another word.

Malfoy smirked a little as Harry deflated and stood up in defeat. "Thank you, favouritism," he remarked.

"Shut up," Harry muttered, earning himself another mini-Malfoy-smirk. He couldn't decide whether the little smirk or the full on smirk annoyed him more. He supposed it could be an equal tie, as they were both similarly infuriating. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to be truly angry at the blond Slytherin.

Malfoy bit his lip and picked up Harry's bag for him as the bell rang. "It's not my fault that you're such a klutz," he teased, holding out the bag for him to take.

Harry reached out and grabbed it, his hand brushing Malfoy's soft hand ever so briefly. He tried to ignore the tingly feeling it left there.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

They walked out together to go to the Great Hall for lunch, chatting lightly on the way. When they reached the door, Harry dug into his bag and threw a chocolate frog to Malfoy, who caught it elegantly.

"You forgot to eat one of these earlier," he explained.

"Oh right," Malfoy smiled, "I did. Thanks," he looked around, "even though it's lunch time already."

Harry shrugged. "Better late than never." He took the frog from Malfoy hands and unwrapped it himself before offering it back. "Here, eat it now. A pre-lunch treat."

"Ew," the blond laughed, "I can't eat that! You've contaminated it with your germy root hands."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Wanna bet?" He shoved the frog at the Malfoy's mouth, successfully getting chocolate all over the boy's lips and his own fingers. "Delicious, no?"

Malfoy chewed for a few moments and swallowed the candy before glaring at him. "How rude! You have absolutely no manners whatsoever," he sniffed. But his grey eyes twinkled good-naturedly despite his alleged frown.

Harry laughed and raised his thumb to smudge chocolate down Malfoy's cheek. "You like me anyways," he murmured.

The other boy froze in place as his thumb continued to travel across various areas of his face, very slowly spreading chocolate on his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw line, and the bridge of his nose. There was something about the sight of all that gooey candy smeared over his pale skin that made Harry want to lick it off, shove him against the wall and kiss it all away. He blushed and tried to shake that idea out of his head. He'd been having strange urges similar to this ever since his drunken advance on the other boy, but he didn't know what they meant. The only explanation that he could come up with for his bizarre thoughts was that his brain was still a bit hung over, even though it had been weeks since. He knew that it was sort of weak, but it gave him that bit of comfort that he needed to cushion his uncertainty. He restrained himself from acting upon his hidden desires out and gestured towards Malfoy's face.

"You know, you've got a little something right there."

Malfoy pawed at his cheek in mock surprise. "Where?"

"Right… here!" Harry dabbed some more chocolate on the tip of his nose and laughed, walking inside quickly before the boy could even object. He headed over towards the Gryffindor table and sat down cheerfully next to Ginny and Hermione.

"Hey, guys. Where's Ron?"

Hermione didn't take her nose out of the book she was reading. "Quidditch practice. Where you should be, perhaps?"

Harry shook his head. "I told you, I'm taking a break from Quidditch for a while. You know, because of what happened to Malfoy."

"Suit yourself, but you shouldn't have to avoid Quidditch because of that. It wasn't like it was a lack of skill on your part that landed him in the hospital, it was just your lack of attention."

"Thanks, Mione. That helps a bunch."

She shrugged and silently began to ignore him in favour of her book once more. Harry then turned to Ginny, who was watching something on the other side of the room with a quizzical expression on her face. "Do you see Malfoy over there?" she pointed towards the Slytherin table.

Harry followed her gaze to the blond boy who was sitting in his usual spot. "Sure. What about him?"

"He's got chocolate all over his face," she observed, wrinkling her dainty nose very slightly in a way that Harry used to think was quite adorable. But right now he thought that she just looked wary. He had noticed that she had been acting like this for a while now, constantly watching Malfoy as if she were waiting for him to slip up somehow. He didn't know exactly why or what her problem was, but he decided not to question it. He had learned over the years that sometimes it was better not to question the actions of your very suspicious and high-tempered girlfriend.

"Yeah, I gave him a chocolate frog. He's a messy eater," he quipped.

Ginny stared at him oddly. "No, he's not. He's rather painstakingly neat, is more like it. What did you do, smear it all over his face?"

_Uh, yeah._ "Something like that. Oh, don't give me that look, Gin. He's my friend; I thought that we went over this. Why do you have to scrutinise him as if he's some sort of criminal?" Oops. He hadn't meant to question it. Guess he hadn't learned from all those years… But now that the cat was out of the bag, why not just roll with it?

"I'm not _scrutinising_ him, I'm just worried about you, for Merlin's sake! In case you've forgotten, he _was_ a criminal! I don't want you to get hurt."

He sighed. "Okay, honestly, what has he done since the accident that had any possibility of hurting me, hm? Nothing. He's a good bloke now, Gin, give him a chance."

She stuck her nose in the air. "_I'll_ give him a chance when _he_ stops being a Malfoy."

He rolled his eyes. Gods, she was so stubborn sometimes. _Maybe I should have kissed Malfoy that night_, he thought to himself, quite loudly._ The lectures I'm constantly getting from Ginny would at least have some damn merit if I had._

"Excuse me?"

He glanced up to find her gaping at him in disbelief.

"What?"

"What do you mean, _what?_ Harry James Potter, when have you ever been close to kissing Draco Malfoy at all?"

Oh shit. Did he say that out loud? He took another peek at Ginny's half-disgusted, half-furious expression. Fuck, he had.

"Um, I didn't kiss him—"

"Yeah, so I've heard," she spat dryly. "But why the hell were you even thinking about it?'

Harry glanced around in panic. What the fuck was he supposed to say to that? Those were his private, private thoughts that should have been buried in a bottomless hole inside of his mind for nobody to ever hear, ever. The fumes from the Potions classroom must have infiltrated his brain or something, because he'd been stupid and cocked up and now he was in some deep shit.

Hermione had put her book down and was eyeing the two of them with inquiry, but she'd been so quiet the entire time that he had almost forgotten that she was even there before she spoke up. "What's the problem, guys?"

"Harry's been going about almost kissing Draco Malfoy while he's supposed to be kissing _me_, his _girlfriend!_"

"That's not true, I—"

Hermione raised a mediating finger up to quiet him. "Oh, Harry. Wasn't that the time that you were drunk out of your wits?"

"What?"

She shot him a little smile. "You were so drunk that you couldn't even tell Malfoy and Ginny apart," she reminded gently.

"Oh right..." He shook his head, as if he were just remembering it now. "Yeah, I'm sorry, Ginny. I thought that he was you."

Harry secretly thanked the gods who had put Hermione Granger into his life. She was his saviour of all saviours at times like these. He knew that he now owed her a real explanation as to what was going on but it was worth it in his opinion, though he wasn't quite sure if even _he_ had realised what had happened that night. Yes, he'd been drunk but he definitely knew whom it was that he'd been trying to kiss and that's why he had been so damn embarrassed. But he wasn't about to tell Ginny that. No way.

Ginny's cold stare lessened slightly as she looked from him to Hermione in confusion.

"How could you think that he was me? I look nothing like him and I'm a girl."

Harry blushed. "Erm, I don't know. I was drunk, I can't explain that. The point is that I only want to kiss you, all right? Don't worry about it."

She smiled and accepted his lame reason, happily going back to her food, and he sighed in relief. It was a good thing that she bought it because now he didn't have to go through that whole break-up-make-up game that he and Ginny seemed to have been playing quite a lot these days. Hermione gave him a brief look and Harry nodded back before glancing up at the Slytherin table, finding that Malfoy had still not wiped the chocolate from his face. With that, he suddenly got that strong, irrepressible,_ unacceptable_ urge to lick it off again, so he quickly jerked his head back down towards his food and tried to think about anything but chocolate frogs, pale skin, and Slytherin boys for the rest of the meal.

**~x~**

"Draco! Muggle studies class, really?" Pansy complained, staring at their schedules. "You made me switch out of Charms for _this?_"

He shrugged. "It wasn't that bad. You seemed to enjoy yourself when that slideshow of muggle actors popped up," he pointed out.

She waved him off. "Well yeah, but that was only for like ten minutes. This class is for the rest of the year, Draco! Why did you think this was a good idea?"

"Harry wanted to see if—"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course, this was _Harry's_ fault. I should've known. What'd he do, preach the goodness of humanity to make you join? Tempt you with his body?"

Draco snorted. "No, you ridiculous bint. I just thought that it might be a nice experience, especially since I don't have the best history with muggles. You know better than I do. Anyways, it's brilliant because now we get to use muggle stuff around school."

Pansy raised an eyebrow. "You know, we're already allowed to do that. As a result of this little thing called 'winning the war against the darkest wizard of all time', we've had that privilege for quite a while now."

"Don't be a smart-arse. I know that you loved the muggle phone, you played with it the whole period." He pulled out the small, square-ish device from his pocket. "Now if only _I _knew how to use it properly."

"Whatever. I just like it because the professors hate them in class," she snickered. "Now we can communicate and they'll never find out!"

"Heaven forbid they do," Harry remarked, appearing out of nowhere at Draco's side.

Right away, Draco felt his mood lift at the sight of the boy and he automatically smiled. Harry had a way of doing that to him, making Draco's spirits go up with just his mere presence. It was sort of unhealthy and maybe a bit obsessive, but Draco figured that it was nothing really all that new.

But Pansy was glowering at him. "Merlin, Potter. You scared the shit out of me. Ever heard of a private conversation?"

"No, it's okay. We're only talking about the Muggle class we're taking, and this thing," Draco tapped on the muggle device to reinforce his statement.

Harry grinned. "The cell phones. Yeah, they're great. My cousin used to go through a few of those a month because his fingers were so meaty. He would break the keyboard all the time."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What was he, an ogre? Or just a total idiot?"

Harry laughed and gently hit him in the shoulder. Draco's heart almost burst at the sound. Even if he wanted to, there was no way that he could deny his infatuation with Harry. Week after week Draco spent with him, trying to find a flaw or annoying habit of some sort, but there was nothing. The Gryffindor boy was, in Draco's eyes, perfect. He was funny and lovely and caring and attractive, and he was everything that Draco had always dreamed of. But alas, he also had a girlfriend and was unmistakably and without a doubt a hundred percent straight. It was quite a pity, really.

And even if his hopes had gone up slightly when Harry had not yelled at Draco for what happened on that fateful night, they had immediately been shot down when he hadn't even mentioned it at all because clearly, he was embarrassed about it and regretted it deeply. But as much as that upset Draco, he wouldn't mess up such a fragile friendship because of that. If Harry didn't want to talk about it, they wouldn't talk about it. Draco would just have to live with the constant what ifs for the rest of his life. No big deal.

"So we should all exchange phone numbers," Pansy said, snapping Draco out of his thoughts and back into the conversation, "so that we can text during class."

Harry tilted his head at her. "You want my number, too?"

"Duh, Potter. Just because you're a brainless git doesn't mean you can't entertain me during a lecture."

Harry gave her a tight smile and they quickly swapped numbers, afterwards doing the same with Draco. Draco fumbled around with the buttons on his phone in frustration, only achieving his goals when either Pansy or Harry helped him out. He found the device quite infuriating, but if it were a way that he could keep in contact with his friends at all times, he would find time to learn to use it. If they could do it, so could he, right?

"So do you want to go to the lake?" Harry asked him, shuffling his feet a little so that they dragged on the floor. "I heard that the weather will be fantastic for the next few days."

Before Draco could answer, Pansy butted in. "The lake? Please, Potter. Draco has better things to do than hang around with you at the lake like some kind of fish."

"Hey, that's merpeople to you," Harry shot back with a smile.

Draco suddenly felt the effects of another flashback coming on him, and he stopped walking to brace himself for it. Instead of standing in the Hogwarts corridors, he was now sitting on a row of bleachers overlooking the large lake below. Surrounding him were scores of students and people, cheering and screaming for something that was unknown to him at the moment. Draco idly wondered what this particular flashback was. It seemed like some kind of celebration or festivity and looking around at his classmates and his own self, he appeared to be a couple of years into school already. He glanced around, wondering where Harry was. Surely he wouldn't miss a school event, would he?

Draco turned his head at the sound of the crowd buzzing excitedly as a blonde girl popped out of the water by her lonesome, and continued to watch for a long time until a sandy-haired boy emerged from the water with a girl on his arm, followed by another boy with the head of shark, pulling Hermione Granger along with him. He frowned and tried to peer into the murky waters of the lake. Where were they coming from? He wanted to turn and ask his friends around him, but he already knew that he couldn't. He had early on discovered that he was merely a voiceless bystander in these flashbacks.

A random pang of worry in his chest suddenly shocked him out of his mind and he realised that apparently, Draco in this flashback was anxious about something. But what was it? As if on cue with his thoughts, he heard murmurs of perplexity go though the crowd and people were pointing down at the water in various locations. Draco followed the gaze of his friends and gasped upon seeing Harry shoot out of the water, his body contorted with webbed limbs and gills. Ron Weasley and a small, blonde girl also surfaced, both sputtering and shaking as Harry dragged them to the dock. Draco instantly felt the worry lift from his chest and a strong sense of relief replaced it.

Harry was pulled from the water and immediately wrapped in a towel, his black hair matted to his forehead and his glasses falling off his face. Draco felt his mouth twitch in a small smile at the sweet, almost vulnerable way that the Gryffindor huddled underneath his towel. The water must've been freezing. He watched as Hermione rushed up to the shivering Harry and fretted over him, kissing him on the head and hugging him repeatedly. Draco felt another surprising shock of sensation in his chest, but this time it was something else, though he couldn't quite pinpoint exactly what the feeling was. He could tell that it was an intensely passionate emotion though, because his chest felt like it was about to explode. His mouth involuntarily set itself in a straight line and his body stiffened as he watched the pair down below, way, way out of his reach. The girl hurriedly helped Harry up and led him away and out of Draco's view, and as the feeling grew stronger, Draco suddenly realised what the emotion was: Jealousy.

If he could, he would have fallen out of his seat. Jealousy? Why on earth was he feeling that in this flashback? Usually, during the memories that included Harry, he only felt hatred and loathing for the boy. Of course, in all of those he had seemed to be quite a great deal younger than he was here, but it was still a distinctly different response than the one he was having now. What had changed? What had he been feeling, and why?

Draco wanted to scream out his questions, he wanted to rewind and watch it all again, searching for signs of any kind that could direct him to an answer. But before he could even attempt it, he was sucked out of his flashback and back into reality. He blinked rapidly in bewilderment as his vision cleared up and the Hogwarts corridor was surrounding him once more, as well as his two friends.

"Draco?" Harry asked. "You back yet?"

Pansy sighed impatiently. "Does it normally take this long? Because if it doesn't, I swear to Merlin, I will hex you into the next century."

"What? How the hell would that be _my_ fault?"

"Everything is your fucking fault, Potter!"

"I'm here, guys, stop bickering," Draco muttered, rubbing his forehead. "I'm okay. I just… this was a weird one."

Harry gazed at him with concern in his green eyes. "Weird? How?"

"Well, I was at some sort of event. Everybody was cheering and various people were coming out of the lake, and then you came out of the lake and everybody went wild. It was so strange."

Pansy laughed. "The Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament in fourth year. Draco, you remember, Blaise and I told you about that."

Draco frowned. "Not well enough, because I had no idea where I was."

Harry grinned. "That was not a good moment for me, I quite literally got attacked by a sea of merpeople. But I suppose that you were having the time of your life watching me come in last," he teased.

Draco chuckled weakly, not really wanting to tell Harry how he had, in fact, _actually_ been feeling at the time. He couldn't imagine that his old self would appreciate him outing him like that. Besides, just because he had been worried and a bit jealous over Harry didn't mean that he had had feelings for him, right? He sighed. Probably not. Besides, according to Blaise, Draco hadn't figured out that he was gay until 5th year. Why was everything always so complicated?

Pansy rolled her eyes in boredom. "I know I was. Anyways, I'm going to find Blaise. See you later, Draco. Potter."

Both of them nodded as she walked off in the other direction. Harry gestured towards the doorway that led outside. "So, did you wanna go to the lake?"

"But we have Divination right now."

Harry smiled wickedly. "I know. Wanna go?" he repeated.

Draco studied him for a moment, and then nodded. Would he rather spend an hour being bored to tears by Trelawney's outlandish predictions, or hang out by the lake with Harry, alone? That was a no-brainer, and there was no harm in just missing one class.

"Okay, let's do it."

The two of them quickly exited the castle and made their way to the lakeside, choosing a spot that was partially hidden from the school by a few trees. Harry tossed a rock into the lake and watched it skip four times before it disappeared, and then he sat down at the base of a tree and motioned Draco over to him. Draco sat down on a large root and looked at Harry expectantly. The other boy was staring off into the glittering waters.

"Do you do this often?" Draco questioned, letting his fingers absently pull at a few weeds by his knee.

"Do what?"

"Skip class to sit here."

Harry chuckled. "Sometimes, when I want to get away. I haven't done it lately though, obviously. You are my main responsibility, you know. I'm not going to shirk my duties."

"Of course not," Draco deadpanned, throwing his small pile of weeds at Harry's face. The other boy retaliated by tossing a pebble at him, but he missed by a long shot. They continued to chuck random things at each other until they were both worn out and Draco's cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.

"Okay, okay, fuck! You win," he gasped.

Harry pumped his fist in the air triumphantly and laughed. "Yes! I beat you again, Draco Malfoy! What's my prize?"

Draco wanted so badly to name off a whole list of lovely things that he would like to give to Harry, but he decided that it would probably be a better idea to keep those to himself. Instead, he glanced around and found a round, puffy-looking weed next to his foot and plucked it out of the ground, offering it to the Gryffindor with a shy smile.

"Here you go."

"A dandelion?"

"If that's what this is, then yes. Congratulations, you win."

Harry snorted and took the plant from him. "Make a wish," he mumbled, but Draco had no idea what he was talking about. Then the boy inspected it for a few moments in deliberation. Draco didn't understand why he was doing that until he puffed up his cheeks and gently blew on the dandelion, causing the little puffs to fly off of it and into the wind. He watched in slight awe as Harry continued to blow on it until there was no white fluffies left.

"You can make wishes with those?" he breathed.

Harry's mouth curved up in a small half smile. "Sort of. You just wish for what you want and then you blow on it. I guess it's mostly sentimental, but it's a nice hope."

"Well, what'd you wish for?"

Harry's cheek flushed a lovely shade of pink and he looked away. "I can't tell you that, or it won't come true," he insisted.

Draco furrowed his brows in puzzlement. "Why not? How would that make a difference?"

"I don't know, but it's just the way it works. Here, you try." Harry handed him another dandelion. "Wish for something that you really want."

Draco took the plant from him gingerly and stared at it for a few moments. It was funny how such a strange, unattractive-looking thing could be the holder of the many hopes and dreams of mankind. What made it so special that it deserved to be regarded so highly by people like Harry? He tilted his head and looked at the Gryffindor, who was watching him with interest, before turning his attention back to the dandelion. Something that he really wanted. Hmm.

"I'm going to make my wish now," he announced, watching Harry for his reaction.

The other boy only nodded. "Go on."

Without taking his eyes off him, Draco blew on the dandelion and its little white puffs. He tried to analyze the way that he was feeling as he was doing it, but he hadn't really felt all that different. It was a rather ordinary experience, to be truthful. When he was done, he tossed the stem off to the side and shrugged at his friend.

"That wasn't nearly as spectacular as I thought it'd be," he commented.

Harry ran a hand through his unkempt hair and laughed. "It's all in your head," he said, waggling his eyebrows playfully and nudging his knee with a foot. "So… what'd you wish for?"

Draco pretended to be offended and crossed his arms. "If you won't tell me, I won't tell you," he responded stubbornly. But as Harry laughed that beautiful laugh and threw another handful of grass at him, all he wanted was for the green-eyed boy to hear him shout out the one thing he wished so desperately for. The one thing that would be going through Draco's mind over and over again even as he was drifting off to sleep that night.

_You._

**Author's Note: Sufficiently cheesy and endlessly long, no? Ah, yes. Methinks that love is about to be in the air… **

**Anyways, la la la. I am shamefully interested in the idea of Harry and Draco having cell phones. I know it's a bit AU, but I think that I could get a lot of good, funny stuff from that. And dandelion wishes are cute, don't you agree?**

**Okay, new discussion topic. Let's see… So I know that we all love, love, **love ****Drarry, but what other Harry Potter ships do you guys have? My main ones include Drarry (obviously), Romione, and Deamus… I know that Romione is very typical and all, but really, I don't see why you wouldn't ship it. I have this intense obsession with the piano scene in Deathly Hallows Part One because of the way Ron looks at Hermione just kills me every damn time. He looks at her like she's the most beautiful girl that he's ever seen and he's always amazed by anything that she does, even if it's just a simple action such as playing a piano. They are absolutely perfect in how they balance each other out and I can't see them with anybody else. ****

****That's probably the reason why I don't ship Dramione or Harmony, to be honest. I have nothing against those ships, you just won't ever catch me reading/writing any of their fanfics. I do get the concepts of them, though. ********And Deamus, do I even have to explain that? They ship themselves. But I would love to hear your guys' various ships and why you ship them. Just remember that ship-hating is not cool, okay? Let's not do it!****

**Sooooo…. Can I beg for reviews now? Please?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Hello! I probably say this too often, but thank you thank you thank you! You are all amazing. Truly. And for that I give you another chapter. **

Chapter 8

Harry almost fell out of his chair as he felt a hard blow on the back of his head. When he turned around, rubbing the sore spot, he found a very angry Ginny standing there with her arms crossed, the fire from her hair blazing similarly in her eyes. He stared at her in confusion for a few moments, taking in her made-up face and shimmery ice-blue dress. Then his mouth dropped open to form a small 'o' of realisation.

"Ginny! Oh gods, I'm sorry! I just… I forgot!"

She reached over and smacked his head again. "How could you forget about our date, Harry? We've been planning this for over a week now!" She peered over his shoulder to look at the books he had out in front of him. "What could possibly be more important than that?"

Harry bit his lip and slumped in his chair guiltily. It was bad enough that he had accidentally blown off his girlfriend in favour of the library, but if she discovered that he was there to gather research on Malfoy's rare condition, well, they would have a fight that would trump all the other fights they had ever had, ever. Harry was already walking on eggshells with Ginny as it was, and ever since he had accidentally let slip that he might've almost kissed Malfoy, she'd been sticking to him like glue and shooting death glares at the poor boy whenever she had the chance. And as a result of this, he hadn't gotten to hang out with Malfoy very much at all, which was making him quite irritable. That was the reason he was sitting here, actually doing research. It was sort of sad and bordering on desperate, but he really needed an excuse to go see Malfoy.

Harry sighed and looked away as Ginny closed each book to read its title. Shit was about to go down.

"_Amnesia and its Properties_? _Rare Injuries and You_?_ Concussions for Dummies_?"

She pushed away all of the books with force. "Merlin, I can't believe you! All I wanted was one damn night with my boyfriend, but apparently I can't even have that! Harry, I'm tired of this. It seems like all you care about is him, because you didn't even have the good grace to cancel on me. I'd rather you have done that than altogether stand me up." Her brown eyes shone with hurt.

Harry rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Ginny, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to forget, time just got away from me. We can do this tomorrow night, I promise."

"And tomorrow night you'll do the same thing," she said, clenching her teeth angrily, "because all you think about is _him_. I always come second to _him_."

"Hey!" Harry stood up so that they were face to face. "He's injured because of me, can't you understand that? I'm sorry that I forgot about our date night, but I need to be there for him right now. He's hurting, and it's my fault!"

She crossed her arms again. "Blah, blah! You always use the same fucking arguement, Harry! It's always the same thing! Well, you know what? I don't buy it. There's something going on, and I'm going to find out!"

"Nothing's going on, Ginny! Except that you keep making this a million times more complicated than it needs to be!"

"Oh, really? Because I swear, if it were me that had the rare concussion, or even Ron or Hermione or anyone else, you wouldn't be acting like this! You care about us, but I know that you wouldn't waste your precious evening sitting here flipping through books if it were _me_ that needed it! No! So tell me, what's so_ fucking_ special about Draco Malfoy?"

Harry felt anger flare up in his chest. How dare she? She had no idea what it was like for the other boy, and she had no right to make such ludicrous assumptions about them. And what was so special about Draco Malfoy? A million things, a million things that she would never get to know because she was so fucking closed off to him. Nobody ever tried to get to know the real Malfoy and nobody ever stood up for him. But Harry wasn't going to take that.

"I don't need your—"

His tirade was stopped by someone grabbing his shoulder, and he turned to find Madam Pince gazing sternly back at him. "I am going to have to ask you two to leave, Mr. Potter and Ms. Weasley. You are creating a disturbance in my library," she announced coldly.

Harry rolled his eyes and picked up his stuff from his chair, rushing to keep up with a rapidly disappearing Ginny.

"Wait! I wasn't finished with you!"

Ginny ignored him and kept walking at a speedy pace, forcing Harry to run after her. Once they were outside the library, the redhead spun around and glowered at him. "Yeah, well, I'm finished with _you!_ I hate having to put up with your rubbish every day! Honestly, it's not even worth it!"

He felt a lump growing in his throat as he stared at her in shock. "What are you trying to say?" he asked slowly.

The heat left her eyes for a moment as she looked back at him. He must've looked quite forlorn, because she sighed and stepped forward.

"Clearly, I'm not that important to you," she answered.

"That's not true, I—"

"No, wait," she held a finger up to silence him. He let her continue. "Don't make me feel even dumber by saying that, because you know that I know that it's true. Honestly? It hasn't been the same for me ever since we came back to school. Ever since the war ended, frankly. And I've tried to feel it again, I really have. But I can't, and I know you're losing it, too."

Harry studied her sad face with a sinking feeling in his chest. He knew that what she said was true. This had nothing to do with forgotten date nights, messy clothing, or even Draco Malfoy, entirely. This was about them. And they had been falling apart without him even realising it until now. He couldn't even remember the last time that he'd looked at her and just thought that she was the most beautiful girl in the world, just thought about how lucky he was to be with her. Because all they did now was fight, and sneak around, and avoid each other. Harry didn't want that, and he knew that Ginny didn't want that either. Didn't deserve that.

"I'm so sorry, Gin," he murmured finally.

She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry."

He looked at her questioningly. "For what?"

Ginny smiled wistfully and ran her hand down his cheek. "For holding on when I should've let go." Harry felt a rush of admiration go through him for her and her strong spirit. She was going to be okay, she really was. He wrapped his arms around her in comfort as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"You know, I always dreamt that it would be you and me," she whispered, "growing up, having kids, living in a cute little house with a white picket fence—the whole shebang."

Harry smiled a little. "That's a lovely dream," he remarked.

"That's just it. It was only a dream. Something that I made up when I was a little girl with no idea of how the real world works. I think I forgot that somewhere along the way." She pulled away from him gently and raised her eyebrows. "Besides, being with you in real life actually kind of sucks."

"Hey!"

"What? You're absentminded and moody and look at your hair, for Merlin's sake!" She laughed and avoided his weak attempt to bump her shoulder. "No, but really. While those things might not exactly be my type, I'm sure that you'll make someone else very happy one day."

He sighed and smiled at her genuinely. As much as he wanted to be able to sulk, he couldn't help but feel actually quite relieved. The feeling came as a surprise to him, as he always thought that breaking up with Ginny would be a catastrophe of epic proportions, but he couldn't say that he was sorry that it happened. Of course, he was a bit sad that things were ending, but he knew that he and Ginny would always be friends, they'd always have each other's backs. That was a promise that he intended to keep.

"We're okay, though, yes?" he asked.

Ginny studied him for a moment and nodded. "We are. But I swear, if you start dating Draco Malfoy and you don't tell me about it, I will hex you both so badly—"

"Whoa, whoa," he backed up, "why do you keep bringing that up? We do _not_ have a thing for each other!"

She sniffed and folded her arms. "Yeah, well. If you discover that you do, I will severely injure you," she declared.

"Fair enough," he replied, giving her a strange look. Then he glanced down the corridor at the dimming lights, rubbing his stomach. "Say, how about we go grab something from the kitchens? I'm so hungry right now, I could eat a hippogriff."

Ginny rolled her eyes and shot him a bitter smile. "Oh, _now _you want to eat with me," she teased dryly. But she linked her arm with his anyway as they began making their way towards the kitchens, and Harry's spirits were higher than they had been in days. Now he could quit worrying about his problems with Ginny and put a little more focus into Malfoy's issues. Things were turning out rather well lately.

"No but seriously," she piped up, "if you have a thing with Draco Malfoy, you better tell me before I fucking find out the hard way."

Harry rolled his eyes and nodded. And he'd thought that Ginny as a girlfriend was a handful.

**~x~**

"Draco! Wait up!" Draco turned around to find a gleeful-looking Blaise bounding up to him on his way to Potions class. "I have something to tell you!"

Draco slowed down and waited for his friend to catch up to him. But by the time he did, he was out of breath and clutching Draco's shoulder.

"What is it, Blaise?"

The other boy took another gulp of air before smiling brightly at him.

"Potter and the Weaselette have finally ended their perfect little relationship! Oh Merlin, it's fantastic! He's going to be so sad, ha ha! I wish I had a camera."

Draco frowned. Harry broke up with Ginny? Or Ginny broke up with Harry? Seriously? He took another look at Blaise's face and tried to figure out if he was kidding or not. Harry hadn't said anything about breaking up with Ginny the day before, or even mentioned her really at all. Granted, Harry rarely mentioned Ginny to Draco unless prompted, but still. Draco liked to think that Harry would tell him if there was any sort of issue in his life, because really, it was only fair. Draco shared everything with Harry, after all.

"Why would they break up? They seemed happy enough yesterday," he remarked casually.

"Yeah, I don't know. You should ask him in class. And I should be there to see the devastated look on his face!"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You're a little too happy about this, Blaise."

The other boy smirked. "Anything that has to do with Potter's unhappiness makes me overly happy. Is that a crime?"

Draco shrugged and looked away from his friend, who was still bouncing up and down in joy. A flash of messy jet-black hair entered his vision and he frowned, nudging Blaise with his elbow.

"Hey, if they broke up, why are they still together?"

Blaise turned sharply in the direction he was looking in and groaned. Harry and Ginny were standing by the Potions classroom together, chatting and laughing like it was any other day. It certainly didn't look like they had just broken up the night before. Draco looked at Blaise skeptically and sighed. It was too good to be true, anyhow.

Harry then caught sight of Draco and Blaise staring at him and waved cheerily. He said something quickly to Ginny and hugged her before walking off to greet them.

"Hi, Draco," he said, flashing him a dazzling smile. "And Zabini," he added.

Blaise muttered something grumpily, and Draco smiled back. "Hi, Harry. How are you?"

"I'm fine," the other boy responded. He glanced over at the doorway. "Hey, can we skip this class today? I really don't feel like going."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Uncle Severus would kill me if I ditched his lesson," he mused. "And besides, I'll help you the whole time, okay?" He looked Harry up and down with a slight smirk. "Or you know, I'll just do the work and you can watch."

Harry rolled his eyes and punched him in the shoulder, lightly. "Ha, ha," he deadpanned. He glanced over at Blaise, who was still fuming silently. "What's the matter with you?"

"I hate you," Blaise stated irritably, before turning and stomping away into the classroom. Harry looked at Draco, who shrugged. "I have no idea," he said.

"All right, then. Let's do this."

The entire class period, Draco desperately wanted to ask Harry what was going on between him and Ginny, but he couldn't muster up the courage to do it. It was silly and should be utterly simple, because all he would have to say was, "so how are you and Ginny?" or "I heard that you and Ginny broke up." It wasn't that hard. So why was he so nervous about it? He sighed and peeked over at the other boy, who was busy scratching his head in confusion at the directions. Well, maybe Draco did know why he was nervous about it. He was scared that it wouldn't be true, and they hadn't broke up. Scared that he had gotten his hopes up for nothing. Scared that he even had hopes at all.

And that was why he didn't say a word about it all throughout the day. Not even when they went down to the lake again after classes, and he had two whole hours to ask him. But he didn't, and now Draco was literally hitting himself on the head for being such a girl. And that was how Blaise, Nott, and Goyle found him after dinner, curled up on a couch in the common room and hitting his forehead repeatedly with the palm of his hand.

"Hey, would you stop that?" Nott said, sitting down across from him. "People are staring at you."

"Yeah, they've been doing that for weeks now. I've gotten used to it," Draco mumbled.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "You're such a drama queen, you know that? Just go fucking ask him."

"Hey, you were the one having a fit over it this morning," Draco pointed out.

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Well, I'm not the one with a big fat crush on the git!"

"Shut up! He's not a git!"

"Yeah, _you're_ a git!"

"No, _you're_ a git!"

"Stop it!" Goyle roared, causing the rest of them to stare at him in shock. The boy rarely had anything to say, and Draco had learned from Blaise that ever since Crabbe had... passed, a word out of Goyle was a very big deal indeed.

"You are always fighting!" Goyle continued, his large hands curled up in fists. The other boys glanced at them nervously. Then they were all silent, waiting for him to calm down. "Neither of you are gits," the boy said after a while, softer. "And Potter's not a git either. He saved my life. He saved all of our lives."

Everyone was quiet again, and Draco gazed down at his hands so that he didn't have to look at any of their faces. They had all gone through the trauma, this he knew. But these were traumas that he couldn't even remember, and he felt sort of terrible that they were sitting here with all the bad memories while he had the good luck not to recall any of them. It wasn't fair. All he wanted was to be normal again, to not have to wonder all the fucking time what was going on. But then again, maybe he never had been normal in the first place. Maybe he was doomed to be deemed a freak forever.

"Blaise," Draco murmured.

The other boy pursed his lips in comprehension. "Golden Snitch," he whispered.

Draco nodded. "Thank you."

He got up and started towards the portrait. But before he left, he turned around and smiled at Goyle. "And thank you too, Greg."

The bigger boy gave him a tight, rare smile back and waved him on. Draco nodded again and stepped out, putting a temporary Disillusionment charm over himself and sneaking off towards Gryffindor Tower. And as he tiptoed up the stairwells, he sort of hoped to himself that the boys would be playing with Firewhiskey again, because he had quite liked drunken Harry. But when he whispered the (very typical) password and slipped in, he found the common room completely empty. Draco frowned and glanced around. It wasn't that late, shouldn't students still be mulling around? He shook his head. Oh well. Why was he standing here contemplating this, anyway? He should be with Harry right now.

He bounded up the stairway to the boys' dorms and found several doors before realising that he had no idea which one was Harry's. He cautiously pushed open the first one on the right, but it was empty. When he tried a few more, they were empty too. Okay, now he was confused. Where were the Gryffindors? Were they all hiding, waiting to scare him? The idea made him extremely anxious and he glanced around in panic with wide eyes.

"Looking for somebody, Malfoy?"

Draco gasped and whirled around at the sound of an unfamiliar voice right behind him. He covered his mouth immediately and took a few steps back, hoping that the voice would just go away. Instead, a tall, mysterious boy with dark hair and plaid pajamas leaned up against one of the doorframes and smiled pleasantly in his direction.

"Yeah, I know you're there. You're not very sneaky, you know that?"

Draco sighed and took the charm off of himself before studying the other boy warily.

"Who are you?"

Mystery boy held out his hand. "My apologies, I'm Neville Longbottom. I forgot that you don't remember me."

Draco took his hand and shook it. "Oh. Well, nice to meet you Neville."

The Gryffindor looked highly amused for some reason when he said that. Gryffindors tended to look at him like that nowadays, and he didn't really question it anymore. "You too. So, you're looking for Harry, right? I assume that you are, unless you just happened to fancy a nightly stroll through a rival House."

Draco nodded sheepishly. "Er, yeah. Where is he? Or anyone, for that matter?"

Neville shrugged. "It's a Friday night. There's usually a party going on somewhere around here. I think that the Gryffindors are hosting this week, so that's where most of them are, anyways. Harry's in the dorm, though. Having a shower, to be more exact," he added.

Draco tried not to blush at the thought of the green-eyed boy in the shower. He cleared his throat and backed away. "Oh, well. I can come another time then, since he's, erm, busy. Tell him I stopped by."

"No, wait. He's probably finishing up right now. You can just wait in the room, he won't take long."

Draco hesitated for a moment, but decided to stay with a nod. When was he going to get another chance to get Harry alone to talk about these things, anyway? Well, if he were to be honest, he could probably do it anytime he wanted, but still. He wouldn't miss the chance to see Harry's hair all fresh and damp from the shower. Just the thought alone gave him goose bumps. Neville guided him towards one of the doors and pointed towards a bed, indicating that it was Harry's. When Draco sat down on it, he found Neville staring at him curiously, as if he were waiting for him to do something.

"What?"

The other boy looked surprised at being called out. "Huh? Oh, nothing," he offered weakly.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You know, I'm used to people looking at me because I'm different. It's okay to say so."

Neville smiled. "It's not that. Though, you are different. I can't say it's a bad different, especially if Harry likes you."

"You think that Harry likes me?"

"Oh, I know he does," Neville said, a small grin on his face, "he praises you all the time."

Draco felt warmth go through him at the thought of Harry saying anything nice about him to his friends. It meant a lot to know that Harry genuinely cared about him. No matter how many times the boy insisted that he did, it was always hard for Draco to believe it. Then again, it was hard for Draco to believe just about anything, nowadays. But the thought was still lovely. He tried to hold back his smile, but he knew that Neville could see it anyways.

"Thanks," he murmured.

"No problem. I'll just leave now. Harry should be out any minute."

"Okay."

As soon as Neville left the room, Draco leaned back on the bed and took in his surroundings. The Gryffindor dorms were red-themed and much warmer than the Slytherin ones, but they were typically the same exact design. His eyes fell on the trunk lying open next to the bed, cluttered with clothes and magazines and scraps of parchment, and he shook his head. Messy, as usual. He was just about to get up and inspect it further when a door flew open on the other side of the room and steam wafted out from it.

And there was Harry, shaking the water from his hair, with only a small, white towel around his waist.

_Bloody fucking hell._ Draco felt his face heat up and he tried to pry his eyes away from the glorious, sensational display in front of him, but he couldn't make himself move for every Galleon in Gringotts, and… damn it all, he was going to look!

But the moment was shattered when Harry glanced up after brushing the hair from his eyes and noticed Draco sitting on his bed. Then he promptly gasped and stumbled backwards, falling to the floor with a loud thud. Draco jumped off the bed and rushed to his side, taking his arm and gently helping him to his feet.

"Are you okay?"

Harry stared, grasping his towel tightly around him. His mouth hung open in astonishment.

"Wha—?"

Draco looked down at the floor, suddenly more than a little embarrassed to be caught by Harry hanging around and peeping through his belongings.

"Erm. Neville said you'd be out soon, and that I could wait here until then. I needed to talk to you," he explained.

"Um, sure. Can you just… hand me some clothes or something?" Harry motioned over towards his trunk.

Draco nodded and went over to it, hurriedly plucking through random articles of clothing. He picked up a pair of green pants but dropped it like it was on fire, and a shamefully girly shriek escaped from his throat before he could stop it. He pretended it didn't happen.

"Uh, what do you want to wear?"

"Anything, anything, please. It's getting a bit chilly."

Draco sifted through the mess again, going to the very bottom to find something suitable. But he got sidetracked as soon as he saw that it was scattered with small trinkets of many sorts, and he picked up a pair of old spectacles not quite unlike Harry's. Why did he have another set? Were they a spare? He turned around questioningly, holding them out for Harry to see. But the other boy widened his eyes at the sight of them and started to rush over.

"Wait, be careful with those—" His sentence was cut off as he slipped, his feet evidently still wet from the shower, and he fell rather clumsily on his bum.

Draco began to laugh, but then he noticed something on the floor in front of him and he froze. The towel. Which meant— He gasped and covered his eyes as quickly as possible, spinning around back towards the trunk to throw random clothes behind him as he did. Oh gods. Oh gods. Harry Potter was completely naked only a few steps away from him. Holy hell. He could… he could just… No! _Shut up_, he scolded himself. Draco waited a couple minutes with his eyes squeezed shut, willing his face to return to its normal colour, before saying anything.

"Are you decent yet?" he called out meekly.

"Um, yeah. Thanks."

He turned around slowly and exchanged glances with a very scarlet Harry. The boy was wearing a ridiculous array of clothing that had probably been thrown on quite hastily, but Draco didn't think that it was the right time to tease him about it. He absently noticed that Harry was only wearing one sock. Then he looked up and they just stared at each other for a few moments.

"Um… so… here," Draco stuttered, handing the other boy his glasses. "Sorry, I didn't know that they were important."

Harry shrugged. "Erm, yeah. They were my father's, and they're sort of fragile," he clarified.

"Oh."

Awkward silence.

Draco cleared his throat. This was a horrible idea. Now Harry would think he was some kind of pervert or something. Or at the very least some sort of creep for finding his way into the Gryffindor dorm rooms without really any reason to do it, since they hadn't had a fight or anything terribly important to discuss, or at least to Harry. Maybe it was best that he leave now, before he made a fool of himself even more.

"Er… okay. I'm going to go." Draco got up to leave the room.

"Wait," Harry held a hand out to him. "You wanted to talk about something?"

_Didn't he have any shame? _

"Um, yeah, but it wasn't important. It can wait."

"No, come on. Is it about your flashbacks? Did you have another?"

Draco shook his head. "No. We can talk about this tomorrow, it's no big deal. I don't even know why I came here in the first place."

"Draco…"

"Fine," he turned around and folded his arms. "Why didn't you tell me that you and Ginny broke up?"

Harry looked at him in surprise for a moment, and then he laughed. "That's what this is about? You snuck into Gryffindor and dealt with all my awkwardness for _that?_"

Draco tried to think of a legitimate arguement to counter that, because now that he thought about it, it was sort of impractical of him. Besides the fact that they were friends, Harry didn't know of Draco's true feelings for him and so therefore wouldn't see that of course this was important news! He tried to think of some excuse that he could use to cover up his mistake.

"Well, yeah! You know, you could have told me before. I thought friends tell each other these things," he pouted.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think it would interest you."

_Wouldn't interest me? What's more interesting than knowing that Harry Potter is up for the grabs?_ Draco didn't say that. "Well, a friend's gotta know," he replied lamely.

Harry sighed and got up. He motioned towards his bed, and the two of them sat down on it face to face. Then he squirmed around for a bit, trying to find a comfortable position to sit in, and Draco waited patiently while he did. After a while, the Gryffindor boy finally leaned back and ran a hand through his hair.

"She broke up with me," he admitted.

_What? Why?_

"What? Why?"

"We've been growing apart lately, and she's not stupid. It just wasn't the same anymore. But we agreed that we'd still be friends, even if we're not together anymore. So I guess that you could say it was a mutual decision, but essentially she broke up with me."

"Oh…"

Well, that was easy. Draco could almost laugh in pure delight, and he felt a bit bad about that. As much as he disliked Ginny, he didn't want to make Harry feel any worse about the situation than he needed to. But Merlin, who knew that the break-up would be so easy? Draco would have imagined that there would be a lot of screaming and fighting coming from the fiery redhead. Not that he had imagined it before. Of course not.

He shook his head and frowned, not sure of how to express his condolences to Harry, who clearly wasn't very bothered by the whole ordeal. "I'm sorry? I'm not sure what to say to that. I had a whole speech planned out to comfort you. Damn you for ruining it."

Harry laughed. "I'm sorry. Next time I'll try to be more sad about it."

"You better."

The two of them grinned at each other for a few moments before Draco looked down at his fingers. "You know, I really do feel bad for treating her the way I have been. It wasn't very fair of me."

"Hey, it's not your fault. She was just as stubborn as you were and besides, that's just how these things work. I like it when the girlfriend and the friend don't get along, it keeps things interesting."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "That's a twisted way to look at it," he remarked.

"Yeah, well. That's life."

"I guess."

Harry leaned back on his pillow. "It's crazy, though. Ginny was totally convinced that you and I had a thing going on behind her back. Weird, right?"

Draco tried not to react embarrassingly. "Oh, yeah, right. Weird," he agreed.

"Yeah, I mean, we're friends, but we're both—"

"I'm gay," Draco blurted out. He watched Harry's face carefully for a reaction.

The other boy stopped and looked at him. Then he shrugged.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Good."

Harry gave him a small smile. "It's no big deal, you know."

"I know."

"So… are there any blokes you think are fit at school?"

Draco laughed and shoved at the other boy. "What are you, my mother? That's none of your business!"

"What? A friend's gotta know," Harry replied teasingly.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well. Just so you know, I find a lot of blokes to be quite fit at this school, but that doesn't mean that I fancy any of them. Besides, I don't think that you'd be capable of keeping a secret even if I did, you'd probably go off and tell them with your big mouth. Plus, I don't really know if I'm gay yet. Blaise told me that I was, but I don't know."

"Hey, I resent that. And if you have feelings for blokes, then you're gay."

"Not necessarily. Haven't you ever looked at a guy, and just thought, 'damn, he's good-looking', even though you're straight?"

Harry's lovely green eyes widened and he coughed nervously, looking away.

"Um, I don't know," he mumbled.

Draco raised his eyebrows. Interesting. "Right. So what I'm thinking is, I probably won't know until I actually do something with a bloke. Then I'll know for sure."

Harry nodded. "That sounds reasonable," he commented.

"First I've got to find someone who's willing to do that with me," Draco joked. He twiddled his thumbs uncomfortably, because he_ really_ didn't want to discuss this with Harry. This wasn't the type of conversation that they generally had. He felt that they should stick to the normal. It was safe. Besides, what if Harry somehow discovered Draco's feelings for him? Then he might be disgusted and refuse to be his friend anymore, and Draco couldn't have that. He needed Harry.

"Well…"

He looked up and Harry was twiddling his thumbs as he spoke, too. "You know, if you truly want to find out, I could just… you know…"

Draco gazed at him, not quite believing what he was hearing. Was Harry offering himself as a test subject? _Could it be true? Oh please, Merlin let it be true_!

"I mean, I'm not with Ginny right now, so there's no reason why I couldn't just help you figure it out, or something," Harry continued, looking flustered. "I mean, I said that I would help you figure yourself out. I could kiss you or something, if you want."

_If I want? IF. I. WANT? _

Draco almost threw himself out the window. Was this real life? Harry was propositioning _him_? This only happened in his dreams! This was insane! This was incredible! This was... probably the only opportunity he was ever going to receive. Draco took a deep breath and nodded quietly.

Harry shot him a nervous smile and looked around. "Um, probably not here though. The Gryffindors should be getting back soon, and all hell would break loose if one of them caught us in here alone together. But is tomorrow okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Draco answered, trying to keep his voice from trembling.

"Okay, well, that's settled then."

"Fantastic. I should really get going now. It's late."

Draco got up from the bed and started towards the door in a daze. He could hardly believe his good luck. Thank Merlin for Harry's flawless hero complex. It was getting him a lot farther than he would have ever expected to go. Draco wondered just how far he could take it… Right before he left the room, he turned around and glanced back at the Gryffindor.

"You know, it might take more than one kiss. I don't know if I'll be able to tell from just one."

Harry nodded in response, seemingly too surprised to say any words. Draco smiled and marched out the door without a stitch of shame for what he just did.

Because he'd be damned if he didn't take what he could get.

**Author's Note: All right! So that's that. Ginny is finally out of the picture and now the playing field has evened out, and I even threw in that last part for you just because I love love _love_ a lot of kissing. Because kissing is good. Very good. Fluff, fluff, fluff. Expect more in the coming chapters. **

**So topic… topic… Oh I've got it! I don't know about you guys, but I have an entire music playlist dedicated to Drarry that I like to listen to when I read/write fanfiction. How about you guys? Any good songs that remind you of Drarry? Here are a few of mine: **

_**Which to Bury; Us or the Hatchet - Relient K**_

_**No One Does It Better – You Me at Six**_

_**A Lonely September – Plain White T's**_

_**Over My Head (Cable Car) – The Fray**_

_**Fix You – Coldplay**_

_**Chaos – Mute Math**_

**Okay, so those are just a few of my favorites. (I can give you more if you want, just PM me or tumblr or whatever) Tell me some of yours in the form of a very nice review please? **


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Gosh, guys, I'm terribly sorry about the long wait. I've been on writing hiatus for like a week now, and it's seriously been much too long. I was trying to keep up on my massive Drarry reading list, but unfortunately, I couldn't really stay focused anyway. So I'm back! Also, for those reading _You're an American, Harry, _I am SO sorry about the wait. It's probably been like a few weeks, maybe a month? I promise to update that soon. For real. Okay? Thank you guys for your awesome reviews, I actually checked out every song that was suggested and I LOVE them! Thank you for helping me expand my playlist, as well as reading/reviewing. This has been sufficiently long and awkward, I'll get started now.**

Chapter 9

"You agreed to do _what?_"

Harry bit his lip and observed his redheaded friend's incredulous expression as they walked out of the Great Hall, heads together in quiet conversation. Why did he think it would be a good idea to tell Ron about his thing with Malfoy again?

"Um… Well, I feel like it's the least I could do, you know?"

Ron made a huffing noise and rolled his eyes as they made their way down the corridor to Gryffindor Tower. "No, the _least _you could do was apologise for the bludger thing and then let him deal with his bloody memory problem himself! I mean honestly, Harry, don't you think you're going a little too far with all this?"

Harry gave his friend a look and quietly spoke the password to the Fat Lady before answering. "You could be a little more supportive about this. I'm only trying to help! Plus, I'm not with Ginny anymore so it shouldn't create a problem."

The two friends sat down on one of the couches by the fireplace. The room was almost empty, save for a few studious classmates who deemed it necessary to do work on a week-end. Harry was surprised that Hermione wasn't one of them. He actually didn't know where she'd been today, but he assumed that she was doing some important work in the library or something because she rarely spent much time away from him and if she did, she was with Ron. And since the both of them were right here, it was a little odd that she wasn't. But he shook it off in favour of turning his attention back to Ron, who was staring at him with pursed lips.

"Why is it that you broke up, anyways? I thought you both seemed perfectly fine," he moped. His red fringe fell over his eyes and he blew upwards to move it. "I know I always tease you about it, but I really did like that you were together. Was it something I said?"

Harry gave his friend a tiny, reassuring smile. "No, it wasn't you. We just don't have that same chemistry we used to have before. I think that all the passion came from the fear of losing each other during the war, but we just didn't realise that it was more of a friendship type of passion rather than romantic. Do you understand?"

"I don't know. Hermione and I are exactly the same way as we were before and during the war, if not she's a bit more bossy," Ron remarked.

Harry chuckled. "Well, that's you guys. You've always been like that with each other, and it works for you. Me and Gin, not so much. Personally, I'm glad that she suggested the break-up, and I'm glad that she's happier now. She is, isn't she? I haven't spoken to her since yesterday morning."

Ron sighed. "Yeah, she seems fine. Didn't even bother to tell me that you two weren't together anymore until the party last night," he frowned and peered at Harry, "and neither did you, _mate. _Some friend _you _are, ditching me there early. To go hang out with Malfoy, apparently."

Harry shot him a guilty smile and tried not to look him in the eye. He really didn't want to go back into the subject of Malfoy again, because he really didn't want Ron to ask him to explain himself. In truth, Harry didn't know how to explain what he'd done; he'd just done it. And interestingly enough, he didn't regret offering to kiss Malfoy. But that was the thing he didn't want to tell Ron, because he would go ballistic, Harry just knew it. He looked up for a distraction and spotted Neville walking through the portrait hole. Perfect.

"Hey, Nev! Come sit with us," he greeted.

The tall boy smiled and sat down next to him with a pat on the shoulder. "Hi, Harry, Ron," he said cheerily. "Why aren't you guys outside? It's such a lovely day today."

"Is it? We haven't been out yet," Harry mused. He glanced over at Ron, who was still watching him skeptically.

Neville looked between the two of them and gave Harry an inquiring look, but Harry just shook his head slightly. The boy shrugged and continued on with the conversation. "So Harry, Malfoy was looking for you last night. Did he find you okay?"

Harry groaned inwardly as he saw Ron bristle at the mention of the Slytherin. This was just his luck. Neville looked confused before glancing at Harry guiltily, aware that he had said something wrong. Harry just shook his head again. Neville hadn't known that it was a touchy subject, so it wasn't his fault.

"Yeah, he was there when I finished in the washroom. Thanks for warning me, by the way," Harry joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Neville grinned. "No problem. Hopefully that didn't cause any awkward moments," he said, his mouth twitching a little to show that he was lying.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, not awkward at all," he deadpanned.

Ron looked between the two of them and sighed. "What, so you're friends with Malfoy too now, Nev?" he asked.

The other boy shrugged. "Not really, but he doesn't seem bad. He's not mean or rude or anything, he was actually pretty flustered about the idea of being in Gryffindor. Sort of amusing, in my opinion, and he called me 'Neville', which was just plain brilliant."

Harry exchanged looks with Ron for a moment, and the other boy nodded a little in consent. "Well, I guess he hasn't been much of an arse lately," Ron agreed reluctantly. Then he straightened up and raised his eyebrows at Neville. "But you know, he did ask Harry to help him figure out if he's gay or not. And Harry said yes!"

Harry widened his eyes and shook his head violently at the astonished look he got from both boys. "No, no, that's not what happened! He just revealed to me that he thought he was gay but he wasn't sure, and then I…" he blushed a little. This was so weird. "I offered to, I don't know, kiss him or something like that. I don't know."

Ron looked put off, but Neville's lips were twitching again in an attempt not to grin. "Er, that's great, mate. That you're being so… helpful," he said, eyes twinkling with amusement.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. At least _one _of his friends understood what was going on. But then again, that was just Neville's character to be so calm about pretty much everything. Harry knew that he could always come to Neville for help when he needed it. Plus, the other boy was the only one who knew about the drunken night with Malfoy, and he still hadn't told anybody about it. That was true friendship right there. Harry shot another smile at Neville and then turned to Ron to pat his knee.

"Don't worry about me, okay? It's just a friendly kiss. It's not like it's a declaration of love, or a marriage proposal."

Ron cracked a small smile. "It bloody better not be, or Hermione's going to be really upset. She says she wants to help pick out your bride's wedding gown, you know," he quipped.

Harry laughed. "Merlin help whoever has to deal with that," he replied, with a grin.

Ron returned the laugh, and Harry immediately felt better. He didn't like that he had to be careful about what he talked about with Ron, or that their relations had been slightly tense ever since Harry had started helping Malfoy. He knew, deep down, that something as trivial as making plans with Malfoy would _never _ruin their lifelong friendship, but he was still glad that they weren't being snappy with each other anymore. He loved Ron, and Ron loved him. They were always going to be best friends no matter what.

"Say, where's Hermione anyway?" Neville asked, glancing around. "Usually she's in here studying by this time of day."

Ron frowned and looked around too. "In the library, most likely. She did say that she had a big essay to write last night. That's why she didn't come to the party," he informed Harry.

"I'll go check for her," Harry said, standing up. "Besides, I have a few books that I've been meaning to bring back, anyways. Do you guys have anything? I'll just return them on my way."

Ron lifted his wand and summoned a few Quidditch strategy pamphlets as well as Harry's books from their dorm and handed them to him. Neville shook his head and waved as he left the room. Harry waved back and stepped outside, holding the books to his chest and striding down the corridor, careful not to bump into anyone and lose his grip. As he walked, he wondered what Malfoy was doing, and if the boy even remembered that they had agreed to meet up today for their… thing. Probably not. Harry sighed and cautiously made his way down a staircase. He tried not to think about how Malfoy's hair fell over his eyes and the way that he smiled at him gratefully when Harry had agreed to help him. Harry shook his head. And just to think, this was the same boy that used to sneak flobberworms down the back of his shirt on school trips to Hogsmeade.

When he arrived at the library he walked straight in, placing his stack of books down on the front desk in front of Madam Pince. The woman gave him a cool nod, and he headed off towards the individual study desks to search for Hermione. That girl could _live _in the library if she wanted to, she was always there. Harry stuck his head around the corner of one of the bookshelves to find her hunched over a large text, scribbling away on a parchment. He bit back a smile and sat down across from her, waiting for her to notice him. After a few minutes, she looked up to brush back a stray piece of hair from her face and noticed him sitting there, now with a broad grin on his face. She raised her eyebrows.

"How long have you been there?"

"Only a couple of minutes this time," he answered. He motioned towards her work. "You sure are quite the party animal, eh? Living it up on the week-end, I see."

Hermione kicked his shin under the table and he pretended that it didn't hurt, the grin still on his face. "You're a prat, Harry," she said good-naturedly, giving him a slightly sorry smile for kicking him. "And if you must know, I'm looking up some possible cures for Draco's condition." Harry gave her a surprised look, and she shook her head. "I know that it's odd of me, but it _is _quite a fascinating subject. I thought that I might look into it a little more, maybe give some of my findings to Professor Snape when I'm finished."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, he'd appreciate that. A student gathering more information than he has, not to mention that that particular student is you. He'll love it."

Hermione narrowed her eyes like she was considering whether or not she should kick his shin again, so Harry leaned back a little just in case. She sighed. "I just think that I should attempt to help speed up the process. I don't like him all that much, but he doesn't deserve to live life like this."

She closed the text in front of her and dust formed a small cloud in front of them. Harry coughed and peered at the front of the book, nodding.

"Oh yeah, I've looked at this one. Didn't have much information on amnesia, though."

She frowned and pushed it aside, straightening her notes out with the tip of her quill. "_You _were doing research for him? I have to say, Harry, that shows dedication. I'm proud," she grabbed his hand that was resting on the table and squeezed it. "I swear, after the war, all you did was mope about with nothing to do. I haven't seen you this passionate about something since the final battle. I'm glad that you've found what interests you now."

Harry blushed and looked away. "I'm not being passionate, I'm being helpful," he muttered. "And I'm not… _interested._"

Hermione smiled. "Whatever helps you sleep at night," she said. Her eyes left his face for a moment to look at something behind his head, and she raised her eyebrows. "Speaking of…"

Harry turned around and found Malfoy surveying a shelf of books near them, his grey eyes roaming the area vaguely before darting over in Harry's direction, and then quickly back to the bookshelf. He couldn't help but smile. The boy was clearly pretending that he wasn't watching the two of them just now. Silly Malfoy. He was never really that sneaky, especially for a Slytherin.

"Hey, Draco," Harry called out, and the blond's head shot up to look at them as if it were a complete surprise to see him there.

"Oh, hi Harry," he chirped, walking over to their table. "Fancy seeing you here on such a fine day," he added. Harry tried not to laugh. Malfoy grinned and looked over at Hermione.

"I'm sorry, that was quite rude of me to exclude you from the greeting. Hello to you as well, Hermione. I hope that I'm not disturbing your studies here."

Hermione shot Harry a quick look before smiling at Malfoy. "How very sweet of you. But no, I was just finishing up." She gathered her notes and nodded. "Anyways, it was nice seeing you, uh, Draco. I'm going to go look for Ron now, you two have fun."

"He's up in the common room with Neville," Harry called after her, but she didn't turn around. He pursed his lips and peeked at Malfoy from under the tips of his hair, again wondering if he'd remembered their deal… because Harry wasn't about to mention it. What if he didn't remember? That would be embarrassing. No, he'd let the other boy bring it up first. Gods, was this sort of thing _supposed_ to be this complicated?

He motioned to the seat across from him, where Hermione had been previously. "You can sit down if you want," he offered.

Malfoy smiled and took the seat. Then he folded his hands on the table in front of them.

"Lovely day, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I haven't been outside yet, but the windows are enough confirmation for me."

Malfoy let out a small laugh, but he didn't say anything more, and Harry didn't say anything more either. Gods, this was awkward. Or maybe it was just awkward for him, because the Slytherin boy didn't look uncomfortable in any way. But the point was, Harry was feeling the bizarre urge to tug Malfoy up from his seat and kiss him right there, in the middle of the library. And it was awkward. But he _supposed _that he was going to kiss Malfoy one way or another. Erm… because he'd promised he would. And Harry Potter doesn't break promises!

"So since you haven't been out yet, how about we go now?"

Harry looked up to see Malfoy watching him questioningly, waiting for an answer. He nodded, and they both got up to leave. And as they were walking out, Harry couldn't help but steal a peek at the other boy's backside. But in a _totally_ straight way, of course.

**~x~**

Draco tried to keep his heart from pounding straight out of his chest as he lead the way to a shaded area on the grass by the Quidditch pitch. Harry hadn't said a word since they'd left the library, and Draco wondered if the other boy was regretting his decision to kiss him. Or maybe he hadn't even remembered that he'd agreed to do it. Either way, it was insanely nerve-wracking.

Draco sat down by the trunk of a large tree, scooting over a bit to make room for the other boy. When they had settled down, he cleared his throat and gazed up at the blue sky. "I told you that it was lovely, didn't I?"

Harry nodded and looked up too. "Yeah, you were right. It's a beautiful day."

Draco turned and let his eyes roam over Harry's face and down to his neck, watching the muscles ripple every time he took a breath… and he was breathing quite rapidly. Draco wondered if he was nervous about something. He seemed to be beside himself in anxiety.

Harry noticed him staring and a faint blush crept up his neck, creating a pretty contrast of bronze and pink across his skin.

"What?"

"Nothing. You just seem kind of jumpy right now. Are you okay?"

The flush on Harry's cheeks didn't fade and he looked away. "Yeah, yeah. It's just… sort of hot outside right now. It's sort of hot," he repeated.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Right," he said slowly, inspecting Harry some more. Was it possible that he was nervous about kissing him, or was it really just _that_ hot outside? He decided that it was now or never if he wanted to find out.

"Hey, Harry?"

The other boy looked back at him expectantly.

"Yeah?"

Draco took a deep breath and leaned in, letting his lips brush experimentally against Harry's warm cheek.

"Can I…?"

The Gryffindor had tensed upon Draco's bold move but at the whispered question, he loosened up and nodded silently. Draco leaned in some more until his lips were hovering over Harry's, and then he paused to take it all in. Up close, Harry's green eyes were utterly disarming and wide with apprehension. He smelled woodsy, and sort of like the air would after a rainy day. One hand was placed on Draco's chest as if it were ready to push him away, or pull him in, or maybe both.

Draco took a shuddering breath, still lingering in caution. Was it really a good idea to kiss Harry, knowing that the other boy had absolutely no romantic feelings towards him? Would he be able to control himself when Harry's mouth was on his, or be able to go back to pretending that friendship was enough for him after it was over? He didn't know. He honestly didn't know.

He was about to pull back and apologise, but Harry's fingers had gripped the front of his jumper, trembling ever so slightly. And he didn't push him away. Draco sat frozen still as Harry tilted his head and gently, questioningly, pressed soft lips to his. It was brief and clumsy, and the other boy jumped back before Draco could truly feel the touch of his lips.

Harry's face was very red now, and he was breathing hard. He fell forward, his forehead resting against his, muttering quietly as if he were whispering words just for Draco to hear.

"Sorry," he mumbled, his face so close that Draco could feel the heat radiating off of him.

_Oh gods. Oh gods oh gods oh gods oh gods. _That one little word was all it took. Draco grabbed Harry's neck and pulled him in, one hand cupping his chin in support. He didn't hesitate this time to kiss him and Harry responded almost automatically, their lips moving and tasting and pushing and asking all at the same time, as if they had done it a million times before.

Then Harry suddenly pulled away, his mouth red and moist and looking rather well-kissed, and Draco felt like he was floating on a cloud, or in a dream, or some sappy place like that. Harry was _so_ beautiful like that. They stared at each other in shock for a few moments, the air between them so tense and thick that Draco could run a knife through it. He wanted to say something, or offer some sort of joke to ease the discomfort, but his words were stuck in his throat and all he could do was stare at Harry's lips and gape like a fish.

"I… I have to… I have to go meet Ron," Harry stammered, pushing himself off the ground and backing up. "I promised that I would help him with his… um, his… uh, Charms. His Charms."

Draco watched in a daze as Harry turned on his heels and practically ran away back towards the castle. He was loath to speak or move or even breathe, in fear that this was all in his head. That he hadn't just snogged the living daylights out of Harry Potter. But Merlin, was that everything he dreamed of, and more! And to think that he might be able to do this a couple more times! He could only wish that he could kiss Harry like that for the rest of his life, but for now, this would be enough to hold him. It had to be.

He heard a small _ding _in the pocket of his trousers and he reluctantly drew out his muggle phone to check it. There was a message on the small, bright screen from Pansy.

_So how was he? He looked fantastic. _

He immediately dropped the phone into the grass and looked around. What? He had thought that he had chosen a pretty discreet area, as most of the students stayed near the lake on warm days like this. Had she been…? His gaze fell on a small dark-haired girl leaning up against a nearby tree, tapping her fingers against her phone and smirking at him. As soon as he saw her, she strode over and plopped down on the grass in front of him, raising her eyebrows expectantly. Draco just glared at her.

"Were you spying on me?"

She gave him a sweet, innocent smile. "I wouldn't call it spying, per say. More like… I was _looking out _for you. Major difference. I know, I know, I'm such a good friend, you don't have to thank me. Anyways, you didn't answer my question. Was it good?"

Draco scowled and looked down at his hands. "That's none of your business," he muttered.

She nodded. "So it was, then. That's interesting. I personally thought that it would be completely horrible, but Blaise said that—"

"Wait, you told Blaise? I only told _you _because you were nosing through my calendar this morning!"

Pansy snorted. "Well, duh, I told him. He's our best friend and he deserves to know, but Merlin, is he going to be pissed at you for not telling him. And anyways, it was your fault that I found out. Who the hell puts that sort of thing on a calendar?"

Draco grumbled to himself and heard the _ding _of his phone again. Pansy smirked. "That's probably Blaise," she remarked cheerily. He just gave her a withering look and ignored it, until it _ding_-ed again. "Wow, he's a persistent little bastard, isn't he?"

Draco rolled his eyes and picked up the phone, seeing that there were indeed two messages. Pansy peered over his shoulder. "Huh. Potter messaged you, too? Maybe asking if you want to expand on your activities, eh?"

Draco ignored her and proceeded to click on the message from Blaise first, partly because he didn't want Pansy to see what Harry might've said, and partly because he was afraid of what Harry might've said.

_Give me the details now or I'll hex you in your sleep, you shit! Oh, and I accidentally broke your favourite quill in class today but don't be mad at me because technically it was Nott's fault. Er anyways… Love you best friend and you better fucking tell me! _

_- Blaise_

Draco sighed and moved away from Pansy. "I'm just going to reply to it. Butt out," he said. She narrowed her eyes at him, but didn't say anything else. He took a deep breath and clicked on Harry's message.

_Hey Draco, I'm sorry that I ran out on you. I promise that I'll be better next time, if you want to do it again. If you're still not sure. Anyways, I'm in the library again with Hermione and Ron, I was thinking that you should join us. We're looking up some information on your condition. _

_- HP_

Draco almost whooped in relief. He had truly thought that Harry was going to be mad at him for kissing him in such a fervent manner. The Gryffindor had run off so fast and he had looked so scared... But obviously he was okay at the moment. And he was offering a second try. Draco thought of Harry's lips moving against his and shivered involuntarily with excitement. If he really wasn't positive that he was gay before, he sure as hell was now. He smiled down at the phone in his hand. Harry was in the library, actually doing research… for _him._ That was enough to make anyone feel special, and was verification that he_ did_ care about Draco as much as he said he did. Draco pushed away his sentimental thoughts and exited out of the message, clicking back into Blaise's again to reply. He fumbled with the keypad and bit his lip in frustration. Why were these devices so bloody difficult?

Pansy bounced up and down as he typed. "Tell me what you're going to say! Please!"

"I'm replying to Blaise right now. It's not nearly as exciting."

"Still, I want to know the details, too! Come on! I'd let you read it if you were me."

Draco ignored her and continued with his message. He did feel sort of bad for leaving his best friends out of it, especially Blaise, so he was going to give him a play by play for that reason. Pansy, he would tell later. When they weren't in public and were all safely back in the Slytherin dorms where she could squeal as loud as she wanted to.

_I'm sorry that I didn't tell you. I was going to! Yes, I kissed Harry and it was absolutely brilliant. He's a fantastic kisser… but I guess that's because he's had a girlfriend for so long. I don't like to think about it that way though, because it really was that wonderful. I can't wait to kiss him again. I know that's terrible of me, since I shouldn't even be doing this in the first place, but every time I see him it gets worse, and it'll be even more intense now that I've gotten a taste of it. I'm going to want him even more. But I don't want that to ruin our relationship and make him leave me. And I don't think that you understand how much he means to me, Blaise. He's really special. I honestly don't understand how I went for so long without knowing him like this. I know I'm being mushy and you'll probably get on my case about it, but dkgnlekrn7dgm—_

His fingers slipped as Pansy bumped his elbow, trying to read what he'd written. He glared at her and dodged.

"Stop it! You're messing up my typing!"

"Show me the message!"

"No, shove off!"

"I will _not _shove off. How rude of you to speak that way to a lady, Draco Malfoy! You should be ashamed!"

Pansy grabbed for the phone and Draco held onto it tight, and they wrestled over it for a good minute. The phone was small and slippery and hard to grip, so it kept going back and forth between eager hands. It was almost like a bar of soap. And Draco hated bar soap.

"Give it to me!"

"It's mine!"

"I'm just going to read it anyway, why do you have to be so—"

_Beep._

They both stopped for a moment and looked at each other in confusion. Draco frowned and glanced down at the phone.

It read: _Message Sent._

He scowled and waved the phone at her to show the display screen. "See what you did? And I wasn't even done typing yet!"

He dropped it on the ground with an irritated sigh and leaned back against the tree. Pansy shot a quick look at him before lunging at the device and flipping through it with gleeful triumph. "I'll just look through the sent messages and read what you wrote. You think you're so clever, don't you Drac—" her eyes widened as she looked at something on the screen. "—_oh_."

Draco furrowed his brows and glanced at her sharply. "What do you mean, _oh? _Is there something wrong with what I've written?"

"Um, no, it's just… I'm sorry, who did you say you were replying to again?"

"Blaise."

"_Oh…_"

Draco felt his stomach drop. "Why do you keep saying that?" he demanded. He reached over and snatched the phone from her frozen grasp. Then he looked down at the screen and gasped in horror. No. No! This was not happening, this was _not _happening! This was going to ruin everything!

"Holy fuck," he groaned piteously.

"Maybe he'll think that you were talking about somebody else," Pansy tried, her tone sympathetic.

Draco got up as fast as possible, shaking his head at her. "No, it had his name in there. And I confessed _everything. _Gods," his voice quivered and he suddenly felt like he was going to be sick. "I've got to get to that library," he declared. He then started sprinting off towards the castle, dropping his phone into the grass as he ran. The glowing screen landed face up, and it read:

_Message sent to Harry Potter at 12:57pm_

**Author's Note: HAHAHAH. Sorry, I had to use the cell phones again, because it was sort of random when I put it in a few chapters ago or something. Since Draco is clearly not the most technologically advanced wizard there ever was, I thought it was cute. And I wonder how our little Harry is going to take the news… **

**Okay, topic for today. I'm not sure if I've done this one, but what is your favorite Drarry fic(s)? I mean your all time favorite, one that has everything that you love about these two boys and possibly more! Mine is _Starts With A Spin _by Maxine. It's really long, but it does have all the elements that I love. Hogwarts fic, fluff, cuteness, a touch of angst… and Ilove love _love_ those party games. Really, I do. **

**But anyways, I apologize again for making you wait so long. I promise I'll be faster from now on! Thank you guys for sticking around. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: My goodness! I am so astounded and pleased by all the feedback that I received for the last chapter. Thank you, thank you! Plus, now I have many new fics to read, and I'm very excited for that. I am glad that you guys liked my little cell phone stunt. I hope you don't mind if I add a few more ;) **

Chapter 10

Draco raced towards the library, a million emotions and thoughts swirling through his mind at breakneck speed. Had Harry read the text message yet? Had he been shocked? Happy? Terrified? What if he never wanted to see him again?

He burst through the doors of the library, earning a dirty look from Madam Pince and many curious looks from students inside. Ignoring everyone, he strode straight for the table in the back where he had found two-thirds of the trio earlier that day. But before he peered past the bookcase leading to it, he paused and took a deep breath. _This doesn't change anything between us, _he practiced to himself, hoping that Harry might give him the chance to explain._ Please don't give up on me. _

Draco shook his head miserably and sighed. Well, it was worth a shot, anyway. He turned the corner and found the trio ducked over several texts, whispering to each other and seeming not to notice him at all. He stepped up to their table and cleared his throat. They all looked up blankly, and Draco noticed that Harry's expression had not twisted into one of disgust upon his arrival. That was hopeful.

"Hi, Draco. Glad you could make it," the dark-haired boy greeted. "Take a seat."

Draco eyed them curiously for a moment, and then proceeded to sit in the chair next to Hermione.

"How's the studying going?" he asked, eyes casually searching the area for Harry's damned cell phone. It was nowhere in sight.

"It's been better," Hermione answered, sighing and closing another book. "We've not found any directly helpful information on your condition." She looked sympathetic. "I'm sorry. We are trying as hard as we can."

Draco nodded absently. "It's okay, really. I truly appreciate what you guys are trying to do here." He glanced over and spotted Harry's book bag on the seat next to Ron.

_Maybe… _

"Say, can I borrow a quill from your bag?" he asked, turning to Harry.

The other boy looked at him and shrugged. "Sure. Ron, would you help him out?"

Ron grunted a little in response and passed the bag over to Draco, all the while never meeting his eyes.

Draco smiled back and took it. "Thanks."

He rummaged through it, hoping and praying that the cell phone would be in there and unchecked. And sure enough, the device was tucked into one of the inside pockets and didn't look as if it had been touched in the last ten minutes. Draco could already hear the hallelujah chorus ringing triumphantly in his ears. Then he frowned. Now he only had to delete the message from the inbox… He grabbed a random quill out of the bag and nodded at Harry.

"I've got it," he announced. Nobody looked up at him, so he snatched the phone out as well. "Mind if I use your phone too? I've got to ask Pansy something."

Harry glanced up. "Yeah, no problem. Just tell her it's you, though. She'd probably delete any text she thought was from me."

_Yeah, if only, _Draco thought. The girl would probably jump at any chance to speak with Harry at the moment. Most likely to "help" Draco, a.k.a. ruin his life. He eagerly opened the phone only to realise that it was a different model than his, therefore completely foreign territory to him. Oh, bollocks. He almost died right there. Of course this would happen to him.

Draco fumbled around with it for a few minutes, desperately searching for the inbox button. How did Harry send bloody text messages on this stupid thing? Finally fed up, he almost slammed the phone down in desperation, and his random array of button pushing suddenly led him straight to the blessed inbox. He tried to hide his gleeful smile and scrolled through it, finding his message at the very top. It was still highlighted, so Draco knew it was unread. He heard the chorus for the second time.

"Hey, are you listening to me?"

Draco looked up quickly to find the rest of the table staring at him.

Hermione was frowning and gesturing at the phone in his hand. "I asked if I can have that for a moment," she repeated.

His heart started to race in panic. _Need to delete the message! _He fumbled with the keys again. "Um, hold on. I have to send the message."

She sighed impatiently. "You can have it back after I'm done. We have to send something to Neville really quick, it has to do with our research."

"Wait," he said, his frustration making his voice unusually high and shrill. "You_ can't_ have it yet!" Where the hell was the delete button?

The redhead started to glower at him. "Stop being so difficult, Malfoy! Give her the bloody phone!"

Draco looked up at him desperately, then at Harry, who was watching him with an odd expression on his face. He sighed. _Gods, my life is over. _He ran his finger across all the keys on the keyboard, hoping that it would do what he wanted like it did last time, then shut his eyes and passed it over to Hermione. The girl looked like she wanted to glare at him, but she held back. Her brown eyes darted down at the screen and narrowed a bit.

"You weren't sending Pansy a message—" Her voice drifted off as she read something and her brows furrowed in confusion.

Draco groaned. He'd been caught.

When she finished, she looked back up at Draco with an unreadable expression before glancing at Harry. Then her mouth opened to say something, but with one more look at Draco, she stopped. "I'll ask Neville about it when we get back to the common room," she said instead, pushing a few buttons and casually dropping the device back into Harry's bag.

The Gryffindor boys exchanged glanced and shrugged. "All right," Ron said, going back to his text which Draco could clearly see a Quidditch magazine had been tucked into.

"Speaking of the common room, we should definitely get back to it," Harry piped up, closing his reading too. He glanced over at Draco apologetically. "I really need to… _go over _my Potions essay with Dean."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his lame attempt to cover up his cheating methods. "Fine," she sighed, closing her book as well.

Ron lit up and stood as quickly as possible, obviously eager to get out of the library.

Draco sighed and stood with them. It was time to go. Besides, the new atmosphere between him and Hermione was getting a bit stuffy in his case and he would not object to getting away from her. He nodded at the other Gryffindors, and then turned to Harry.

"Hey, thank you. For everything," he offered vaguely. The other boy would know what he was referring to.

Harry grinned back a little. "No problem. Let me know if you need anything more."

Draco felt his mouth curve up into a bitter smile. If only he knew. "I'll make sure of it," he lied, knowing that when Hermione told Harry about the text message he wouldn't want to kiss Draco ever again, let alone help him at all. What a disaster.

He shuddered at the thought and suddenly felt a certain sadness wash over him. Maybe it _was _better that he went through this journey alone, then nobody else would get hurt when he went back to the way he was before. And somewhere deep within him, Draco knew that Harry would get hurt when and if that happened. Because how could two enemies ever become more? In the state of mind he was in now, he couldn't quite grasp the root of their previous hatred as well. But he knew that later on when he remembered it all, he would very clearly understand it. And it would be better if nobody got too attached to one another. Still, the selfish part of him didn't particularly want to let go of the trusting smiles, the gentle touches, or the hope of companionship with Harry. But he knew that he would have to, one way or another.

Unexpectedly, and most likely shocking to the Gryffindors, Draco launched himself at Harry and pulled him into a crushing hug.

"You're a wonderful friend," he declared, squeezing the boy tightly and burying his face into his shoulder. "I don't know where I'd be without you."

Harry smiled brilliantly and squeezed him back. "I'll be there for you until the ends of the earth," he promised.

Draco chuckled and unwrapped himself from the Gryffindor. "See, that's what I'm talking about," he murmured. He raised his eyebrows at the other two, who were watching them with mixed expressions of awe and uncertainty. "You guys are lucky that you found him first."

Harry gave him another blinding smile and turned to leave the library with his friends. "I'll see you later, Draco," he called over his shoulder, and Ron followed him loyally to the door. But Hermione lingered for a few moments and Harry glanced back at her, slowing down. "You coming, Mione?"

"There's just a few things that I'd like to discuss with Draco here," she replied, waving him off. "You go on, though. I won't be long."

Draco gulped nervously and watched the others leave the library, almost afraid to be left in the presence of the brunette girl. He'd heard many things about Hermione Granger since he'd woken up from his injury. Some said that she was a genius. Others said that she was crazy. And from the few times that he had spent with her (because of Harry, of course), he'd personally found her to be a mix of both. With that knowledge and the fact that she knew of Draco's true feelings for her friend whom she was fiercely protective of, he didn't know _what_ to expect.

"So… how about that Potions lecture today? Difficult, yeah?" he tried, hoping to avoid the dreaded subject for as long as possible.

She put her hand on her hip. "Don't play with me, Draco Malfoy," she snapped, her eyes suddenly blazing with heat. "What is this about you and Harry and why are you texting him pretending that you are talking to Blaise about him? Is this some sort of joke or twisted game? Because if it is, I swear to Merlin, I will make you wish you had never been born. I _know_ spells, you know. Spells that would make your blood boil and your bones shrink and your breath stop. And I don't care if you are in critical condition or not, because you do _not _mess with_ my_ best friend!"

Draco shrunk back in fear. Okay, so crazy then. She was definitely crazy. "I didn't mean to send it to him," he protested meekly, avoiding her accusing stare. "I was trying to delete the message from his phone before you took it from me!"

Hermione stopped glaring and frowned deeply. "What? How do you accidentally send someone a text message about them?"

"I don't know, Pansy and I were fighting over it and there was a _beep _and then—oh, I don't even know why I'm trying to explain myself here! We both know that you're going to tell on me and Harry's never going to speak to me again!"

Draco felt angry tears threaten to spill out of his eyes and he looked away. He didn't expect to feel a sympathetic hand rest on his shoulder.

"Who are you?" Hermione murmured, and Draco looked up at her. Her eyes were searching his face as if it held the secrets of the universe there.

He tilted his head in confusion. "I'm Draco Mal—"

"No, you're not," she interrupted impatiently. "The Draco Malfoy _I _know only does things for himself. He hates Harry and Ron and me, and he'd never spend time with any of us. He doesn't give a damn about what Harry thinks of him and he'd rather die than admit that Harry means _anything_ to him! So tell me, who the hell are _you?_"

Draco felt fury bubbling up in his chest and he glared at her defiantly. "You don't know anything about me!" he shouted. "You don't know anything about the way I felt about him before!"

She narrowed her eyes. "But neither do you," she countered. "And who you are right now is not who you were before. Your feelings at this moment have no relevancy to the world, because they are not real! You are not Draco Malfoy! And we are trying to help you get back to him, so I suggest that you let go of any feelings that you have for Harry and move on." Her eyes softened at his broken expression and she sighed. "Draco, I'm sorry. But you can't do this to yourself. Or to him," she added.

Draco looked away from her. She didn't know him. She certainly couldn't make assumptions about the way he was before the accident. He sighed. But she was right, too. He could not make those assumptions, either.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to tell him," Hermione said, after a while of silence. "And I'm going to delete the message for you. Because I don't want him to think about it, and I don't want you to think about it, either. It won't be good for either of you."

Draco was about to nod in resignation, but a certain memory popped up in his brain and he gasped. Of course!

"Wait," he muttered, causing the girl to peer at him inquiringly. "I _do_ know how I felt about him."

"What?" she asked, bewilderment crossing her face like a shadow. "How would you know that?"

He grinned at her and winked. "I get flashbacks, remember? And they're about my life from before. I have to say; in every single one of those flashbacks Harry is a part of it somehow. Either he's physically there in it, or I'm sitting there thinking about him. You see, my life _revolved _around Harry," he revealed triumphantly.

Hermione pursed her lips. "But that doesn't mean you had feelings for him," she argued.

"Right," he agreed quickly, "you're right. The ones that I had from my _younger_ years only portrayed Harry in a very negative light, and I was always thinking about how much I loathed him and plotting all the ways I was going to hurt him."

She frowned. "In your younger years?"

"Yes. But then I started getting visions from fourth year. Remember, the Triwizard Tournament?" Hermione nodded dumbly, completely silent for once as she listened. "Good. You see, I am not only able to observe what I had observed then, but I can also feel what I was feeling as well. And when Harry didn't come up from that lake in the Second Task, I began to get unusually worried and anxious, although my outer appearance stayed cool and calm. Then, when he jumped out of the water, I began to experience such a great feeling of relief that it almost hurt, yet still I sat there as if everything disgusted me. Lastly, when you were drying him off and kissing his forehead and fretting over him, I began to get this intense, burning jealousy in my chest. But beneath that fiery emotion, I also felt surprise. Surprise that I was jealous of you and surprise that I even cared so much about the Boy-Who-Lived. And from then on, I understood that I would always have strong feelings for Harry, even if I was just sitting there watching him. I've had a few more visions like that regarding fourth year, and they've all gone quite similarly to that," he finished simply.

Hermione studied him for a few moments. "You're not kidding," she said quietly, in disbelief. " "Pre-accident Draco could have honestly had possible feelings for Harry before… And oh my god. Draco Malfoy was jealous of _me _during fourth year!"

He huffed in annoyance. "Stop referring to me in third person. Yes, _I _was jealous. It appeared as if you two were a couple back then," he commented roughly.

She giggled. "Thanks to you and your newspaper stunts," she reminded him. "Harry wasn't too pleased about that, you know."

"I know. But you get my point, don't you? You don't know me, and okay, _I _don't know me to an extent. But give me a chance to figure myself out, Hermione. I know that I was a git on the outside back then, but I'm positive that there was something else to me. There had to be. Please."

Hermione sighed and nodded. "I only hope that you're right," she said tiredly. "But don't be too disappointed if you can't find anything else. I'd hate to see you suffer all over again."

Draco frowned as she began to walk out of the library and disappear around the corner. What was she talking about? When had he suffered before? His mind briefly brought back up the image of him flying out of that burning room on the back of Harry's broomstick, and he shuddered involuntarily. He hadn't known exactly what year that had been, but he had obviously been several years older than he was in the Triwizard Tournament flashback. Normally, his visions went in chronological order, unless something triggered his memory back to something else, like the mahogany desk in the Room of Requirement.

Draco absently wondered whether or not Hermione had been referring to that specific incident when she had said he'd suffered. He bit his lip and shook his head, walking out of the library as well. Somehow, he knew that the worst of the memories had yet to come.

**~x~**

Harry twirled his wand in his fingers absently, wondering if maybe he should text Malfoy again. The boy hadn't responded to him for a few minutes now, even though Harry was quite sure that his last text had been sufficiently witty and interesting. Hadn't it been? He checked his last sent message again and groaned. Maybe it was _too _witty. Or not witty enough? Or creepily forward? Or just plain _creepy? _

"Stop fretting over your text messages from Malfoy," Ron ordered, plopping down next to him on his bed. "You're acting like a bloody girl."

Harry glared at him. "Shut up," he muttered, glancing at the phone again.

The redhead grinned. "Ah, young love," he mocked, twisting his chest to avoid Harry's shove, "oh, and that reminds me. You never told me how the Malfoy kiss went. I suppose that you didn't kill each other, because you were both in one piece yesterday in the library."

Harry tried not to blush thinking about the kiss. Because really, it had been an extremely _good _kiss. Malfoy's lips were soft and sweet and they tasted like something Harry had never tasted before, like desire, like _need. _And to be honest, that's what scared him so much and made him run like he did. He knew that it was sort of a prattish thing for him to do and he had been a bit nervous that Malfoy would be cross with him for it. But the blond Slytherin hadn't said anything about it since then, excluding the vague thank-you he'd gotten after the library. Harry had been half-hoping that Malfoy would mention it in some way, because he was curious to find out how he'd felt about it, and plus, if he were really being honest, he wanted to bring up the idea of possibly doing it again. Because, like he said, it was a_ very_ good kiss. Harry shook his head. It wasn't like Ron needed to know any of that.

"What makes you think I'm going to tell you, Mr. _don't you think you're going a little too far with all this_?" he questioned dryly.

"You're a prat," Ron grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. "You know, I'd tell _you _how it was if I had snogged my worst-enemy-turned-friend-turned-whatever the hell you decided he is now," he complained.

"He's still just a friend," Harry shot back hotly. "And I'm sure you would do just that." Then he rolled his eyes, deciding to give in to some extent. "It was interesting, okay? And not nearly as weird as I thought it would be."

Ron snickered. "You thought it would be weird kissing a bloke, didn't you?"

"Maybe. But it wasn't any different than kissing Ginny. Maybe even better than that."

Ron's blue eyes flashed. "Don't bring my sister into this," he warned. "And _don't_ compare her to Malfoy."

Harry raised his arms in defense. "Just saying," he said.

"Whatever. At least it's over with now."

"Um," Harry offered intelligently.

Ron's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "You promised to snog him again, didn't you?" He threw his hands up in the air at the guilty expression on Harry's face. "Of course you did!"

"Hey!" Harry argued. "In my defense, I'm being a good friend! You would do it for me if I wasn't sure, wouldn't you?"

Ron snorted. "Hell no!" Then he took another look at Harry's face and changed his mind. "Well, maybe. But only for you! We've been mates since first year! You've only known him for a few weeks!"

"I've known him since first year too," Harry remarked. "Even if we hadn't been on best of terms the whole time."

"The best of terms," Ron repeated, his eyebrows raised. "That's one way to put it."

"You know what I mean. Anyways, come on. We've promised to go meet Hermione down in the common room to study, remember? She'll go bonkers if we don't show up at all."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Because who doesn't love studying with Hermione every second of the day?" Harry chuckled and hopped off the bed, and his friend did the same. He picked up his book bag and followed Ron out of the dorm. He was glad that the other boy wasn't pushing him for information about what was going on with Malfoy, because it would only end badly.

When they had reached the common room at the bottom of the stairs, it was evident that Hermione had been waiting for them for a while now. Her books were spread across the table and she was already deep in thought about something she was writing down. Harry and Ron exchanged glances and walked over to her.

"Hey, Mione," Ron said cheerfully, pulling the other girl out of her trance.

She glanced up at him, and then at Harry. Her gaze lingered on him for only a second longer. "Hi guys. Where have you been? I asked you to meet me here an hour ago," she remarked.

They both shrugged, not wanting to admit that they had been hiding in their room ever since she had mentioned studying. "Oh, here and there," Harry lied, coughing slightly to hide his grin.

Ron nodded in agreement, also hiding an impish smile. "Yeah, and I've been with him." He sat down next to Hermione and peeked over her shoulder. "What are you working on?"

"Charms," she responded, raising an eyebrow at him. "Which you guys should be doing as well."

Ron yawned. "Boring," he commented, lying back on the couch. He ignored the glare he got from his girlfriend. "Hey Harry, want to go to the lake? Er, to study," he added, glancing over at Hermione quickly. Harry was about to nod when he felt his cell phone buzz in his pocket. Excitedly, he pulled it out to check it. Yes! It was Malfoy!

Ron rolled his eyes as Harry read over the message eagerly. "Never mind, you've got Malfoy duties," he quipped.

Hermione gazed at Harry sharply. "What are you doing with Malfoy?" she asked. She sounded overly suspicious.

Harry read over the message again and looked up. "I've got to meet up with him," he murmured absently, picking up his stuff and heading towards the door. "I'll see you guys later." Just as he stepped out of the portrait hole and was about to head down to the dungeons, he felt a hand reach out and grab his shoulder to stop him. He turned around and frowned in confusion when his eyes met concerned brown ones. "Hermione, what do you want?"

She glanced around and pulled him over to the side so that they weren't in the way of the entrance and the other students anymore. "I have to talk to you about Malfoy," she whispered urgently.

"What about him?" Harry was getting a bit annoyed. Couldn't this wait? The Slytherin had asked for him to meet up with him, which could mean another kiss. And it's not like Harry _wanted _another kiss, but he was obliged to—oh fuck it. Why lie to himself? He wanted another damn kiss. And now was not the time for one of Hermione's lectures.

"Don't get too involved with him," she warned. She put a hand on his shoulder. "I don't want you to get attached to him and get hurt when he goes back to the way that he was."

Harry felt as if someone had physically punched him in the stomach. He hadn't thought about that… Here he was helping Malfoy go back to the identity that hated Harry while also trying to make him like him as well. It didn't make any logical sense. What did he want, to help Malfoy regain his old life or to be his friend? But Harry already knew the answer to that in his twisted, selfish heart. He realised that he wasn't ready to let his new friend go.

"I know what I'm doing," he said roughly, more to himself than Hermione. He didn't fool either one.

Hermione gazed at him with worry. "I know that you're starting to develop feelings for him, but you can't—"

"I'm not developing feelings!" he practically shouted, causing passing students to look at him oddly. "I'm not developing feelings," he repeated, softer this time.

"Harry, I know you and I've seen you act this way before around Ginny, and Cho. And I can't watch you get hurt because you don't understand what you're getting into!"

"I understand perfectly what I'm getting into," he disagreed, exasperated. "Hermione, he's my friend now. I promised to help him and to be there for him the whole way, no matter what happens. So it wouldn't make a difference whether or not I have bloody feelings for him, I would still be there regardless! Have faith in me, please. I can take care of myself."

Hermione nodded. "I understand, Harry. I just—" her eyes glittered as if she knew something he didn't. "I want you to be careful. Don't forget who he is." She turned around and went back into the common room, leaving Harry with her puzzling message.

He shook his head and started off again towards the dungeons. She didn't know what she was talking about. Did she? And while he may or may not have enjoyed kissing Draco Malfoy, he clearly did not have feelings for the boy, either. Didn't he? Harry reached his destination far too quickly without a single coherent decision formed in his head. What if she was right? What if he was wrong to do this? He frowned, almost turning around to go back. _No. You will not abandon this boy after everything he's been through, _his brain instructed him. He obeyed, turning the corner to the Slytherin portrait without hesitancy this time.

Malfoy was leaning against the wall next to it, inspecting his fingernails in a bored manner. Harry's heart sped up upon seeing him, and he scolded himself for it with a small slap to the forehead. The blond looked up from the noise and a beatific smile bloomed on his face.

"Hey."

Just the sound of the other boy's voice made his face heat up. Harry wanted to slap himself again but didn't want Malfoy to think that he was crazy. He smiled back instead, although he probably just looked constipated or something.

"Hi."

"So you said that you would help me again if I so choose," Malfoy began shyly, looking down at his feet.

"Do you so choose?" Harry teased, loving the sudden timidity from the generally confident Slytherin.

Malfoy took a step towards him. "Yes," he answered simply. Harry's breath caught. The other boy jerked his head over towards the door. "Come on."

Harry followed him blindly as Malfoy led them through the empty common room and up the stairs to the dorms. And though Harry had already been there a few times, he was feeling a bit nervous now. Perhaps because when he had been in here before, he wasn't intending to snog Draco Malfoy. Perhaps. They made their way into the dorm and Malfoy sat down on his bed, closing the door to the room with a quick wave of his wand. Then he patted a spot next to him, and Harry climbed up and took it. They looked at each other for a few moments, studying the other's reaction to the situation.

Finally, the Slytherin boy chuckled. "Please tell me that you're not going to be like this every time I ask you to help me," he joked, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

And of course Harry had to ruin it. "There will be more times?" he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Now Malfoy was blushing. "Um," he responded eloquently.

Harry managed a small, pained smile. "I was kidding," he amended sweetly, his enthusiasm sounding much too forced even to him. He tried not to visibly cringe.

Malfoy cleared his throat and his face got even pinker. "R-right, I knew that," he stammered, staring down at his fingers spread over his lap. "I was just testing you."

"For what?"

The other boy made a loud noise of irritation. "For Merlin's sake," he muttered.

Without warning, Malfoy leaped forward, crashing his lips onto Harry's in one swift motion. The force of the kiss made Harry lose his balance and he clumsily fell backwards on the bed, bringing his partner down with him. He wanted to pause and apologise, but the blond was insistent and clutched his shirt as it were the very air that he breathed. And Malfoy's lips were just that to Harry, air. He needed it to breathe and survive and function and there was nothing in the world that mattered more than the way that hot mouth felt against his.

And Malfoy's lips moved with the same eagerness and passion as last time, but somehow, it was different. _Way _different. As the Slytherin pressed his chest up against Harry's and wriggled one arm around his torso to pull him closer, Harry could feel the difference—with every touch, every movement, every unsaid word. He had never felt anything like this before, never kissed like this before. Malfoy's lips weren't _asking, _they were _demanding. _And Harry was willing to give them anything they wanted. It was a frightening thing, that Malfoy could make him do anything that he wished of him whenever he wished it. But even that thought could not make Harry stop.

He was starting to lose himself in some-emotion-that-he-didn't-even-know-he-had when Malfoy's lips parted against Harry's with slow anticipation. Harry almost jumped in astonishment as a shock of pleasure shot through him and Malfoy's tongue slipped deeper into his mouth. Oh gods, oh gods, oh fucking gods. The Slytherin seemed to be closer and closer to his body as if they were one and their mouths were molded together indefinitely, never ever stopping, never ever wanting to stop. His warm lips brushed Harry's almost like a lover's caress, sinfully slow and languid, torturing him with each small movement. And it was insane, but Harry wanted that torture—_needed_ that torture—so much as to claw at his back, his hair, his clothes—anything to keep him moving just like _that. _Merlin, he could do this forever and ever and nothing could make him leave this very spot right underneath Malfoy. Nothing could—

"Damn, you guys are_ killing_ me here. Could you fast forward to the part where you shag each other silly?"

Malfoy sprung away from him faster than Ron could fall asleep in Potions. They both whipped around to discover the source of the cock-blocking _arsehole _that dared to interrupt them and found it in the form of Blaise Zabini, who was leaning against the doorway with an evil smirk on his face. Malfoy's face turned the shade of a tomato as he grabbed a pillow from his bed, throwing it at the other Slytherin with aggression.

"Get out, you pervert!" he yelled, causing Zabini to laugh and duck.

"What? It's my room too! I have every right to be in here. In fact, I think I'll just go sit on my bed and read a novel. Don't mind me, you can continue on with your activities. Actually, I _encourage _you to."

Malfoy growled dangerously, snatching his wand from the bedside table and throwing a quick Stunning spell at his friend before he could react. Then he levitated him outside and slammed the door shut, locking it with what Harry could only guess was the strongest locking charms he'd ever heard of.

"That boy is going to wake up _underwater_ tomorrow morning," the blond muttered angrily, stowing his wand back in his robe pocket.

Harry chuckled with unease. _Note to self: Don't piss off Draco Malfoy… Wait, I knew that already! _"Um, so…" He didn't want to blatantly ask if they could resume snogging the fuck out of each other.

Malfoy's eyes shifted back to his face. They were curiously warm and inviting rather than their typical steely grey colour, and despite the fact that he'd been mad as hell only moments ago. "That was… that was fantastic," he said, those damned lips curving up into a smile.

Harry willed himself not to melt right there and then, succeeding just barely. "Yeah, it was," he agreed, determined to appear blasé about it.

Malfoy looked down, and Harry could tell that he was trying to hide another smile. "I'm gay," he announced to the floor. Then he glanced back up at Harry and searched his face for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I'm definitely gay."

Harry wondered if he had made that conclusion before or after he had looked at Harry like that. Or if he even realised that he even looked at Harry that way at all. He sighed. Probably not. And even worse, now that Malfoy had realised that he was indeed gay, he wouldn't need Harry to kiss him anymore. "Well, I'm glad that I could help," he said, trying not to let his disappointment show too clearly on his face.

Malfoy's face fell a little as well. "Oh… yeah. Thank you," he murmured.

They both were silent for a while, and Harry felt the boundaries of their relationship stretch with each moment passed. This was more than a helping hand. This was more than friendship. But what was it then? He got up from the bed and nodded at the other boy. "Well… I should be going now. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess," he saluted him with a small nod.

Malfoy gave him a half-hearted smirk and Harry felt as though he really_ was_ going to melt all over the floor, but he turned around before that could happen. And when he finally forced himself to move his feet, he walked out the room and found Zabini sprawled on the ground, rubbing his head. The dark-haired Slytherin looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Leaving so soon?" he inquired dryly.

Harry glared at him. "Shut it, Zabini," he muttered.

The boy smirked. "You have it so bad," he remarked, jumping up onto his feet gracefully. Then he smoothed out his jumper and eyed Harry up and down with interest. "I'm intrigued to see where this will go."

Harry watched him whirl around and reenter the dorm room, frowning in confusion. What did the cryptic Slytherin mean by that? Then he caught a glimpse of Malfoy sitting on his bed still, his face pink and his blond hair falling over his eyes before the door closed again, and Harry blushed and bit his lip longingly without even thinking about it. When he realised what he was doing, he groaned and closed his eyes with comprehension. Because he knew exactly what Zabini had meant when he said that Harry had it bad.

And Merlin, he had it _bad. __  
><em>

**Author's Note: All right! So what did you guys think of the cell phones in this chapter? Same fumbling Draco, but now you get a look at Harry using the phone! I just love the concept of him fretting over Draco not texting him back immediately. I think it's so adorable! I'm slowly (or not so slowly) getting Harry to admit his feelings for Draco, and it's going to be a fun journey, let me tell you!**

**Anyways, topic for this chapter. I recently read a Drarry fic where Snape was a father figure to Draco and Harry, and I honestly had never thought about him that way. And I have to say, I sort of liked it! So, what do guys think of Snape? Either canon, or in fics, or both? I definitely respect him a lot in the books because I love what his character stands for, with his redemption and his love for Lily being a big part of the series. In fics, I am ashamed to say that I didn't pay attention to him much before. But I hadn't read a lot of Drarry fics where he was a main part of the plot, so that's probably why. So if you want to recommend a few good ones, let me know, and I hope to get some good responses for this one! Love you guys, and I'll try to update again as soon as possible!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: You are all amazing, as usual. I say it every time and it only becomes truer. ****You had great Snape responses and I love that man even more now, if that's possible. Anyways, love you and thank you for sticking with me!**Here are more words!****

Chapter 11

"Good morning," Blaise greeted cheerily, grinning from ear to ear at Draco as he sat down at the table the next morning for breakfast.

Draco frowned at him and turned away, but he could practically feel the boy's pointedly evil smirk at the back of his head as he gathered food on his plate. _Bloody git. _He wished he could slap that smirk off his face. How dare he! Some friend he was, interrupting Draco's kiss with Harry like that last night. Didn't the dense prat realise that it could have been the last one he ever got? Draco stared down at his food sullenly. But then again, that one was his own fault as well. He didn't know why he had told Harry that he was definitely gay when he should've lied and pretended to still be very confused and take every chance he could get. He sighed and poked at his meal dejectedly._ _Guess when that bludger took me out it also took some of my good Slytherin sense, __he thought.

"I want a roll. Pass one over, would you?" Blaise declared loudly, nudging his shoulder a bit to get his attention.

Draco started to reach for the basket, but then stopped and glared at the other boy, remembering that he was angry with him. He plucked one from the top and glanced at Blaise, tilting his head.

"You mean one of these?" he asked, speaking to him for the first time since the previous night. The dark-haired Slytherin smirked and nodded, so Draco smirked back and took a huge bite out of it in response. "Well, too bad," he finished childishly, mouth full of bread.

Blaise pouted and crossed his arms. "I wanted a roll," he complained.

"We all want things that we can't have," Draco stated simply. He finished his roll and raised an eyebrow. "Like privacy, for instance."

"You're a touchy little ponce, you know that?" Blaise grumbled, sitting back in his chair. "And besides, I told you that was payback for not telling me about your Snog Potter Plan earlier. Tosser."

"You could have at least let me finish the damn kiss!" Draco exclaimed, folding his arms across his chest. He stole a quick glance in the direction of the Gryffindor table and blushed slightly. "Because now I'm not going to get another chance. He hasn't even looked at me since last night," he mumbled.

His friend rolled his eyes. "Please," he muttered. "The stupid git is nuts about you. And you just _think _that he's not looking at you but really he's staring whenever you turn around."

Draco shook his head. "You don't know what you're talking about. He just sees me as a friend. And besides, you're the one who always talks about how straight he is, so obviously he can't see me as anything more than that."

Blaise sighed and patted Draco's arm in pity. "You're so clueless and naïve, it hurts. Old Draco would've caught it in a second, and would probably use it to his own advantages."

Draco whipped his arm away and glowered at him. "Just stop it, okay? You don't know him like I do."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Today when you meet up with him, flirt with him a little. Touch his arm, laugh at his stupid jokes, give him all your attention. And if he doesn't react to any of that and you're damn sure that he has absolutely no feelings for you then you're right, and you win."

"Win what? This isn't a game, Blaise. This is my life we're talking about! I don't want to ruin what I have with Harry just for kicks."

"Please, everything's a game to us Slytherins. And life is a game that we excel at especially," the other boy lifted his chin proudly. "And it won't be just for kicks if you get something out of it too, Draco. Just try it out, I promise that you won't regret it."

Draco didn't say anything in response, but spent the rest of the meal in silent contemplation. What if Blaise was right? What if Harry _did _have some sort of feelings for him? The boy did kiss him, even if it had technically been a friendly, platonic offer at the time. And Draco liked to suppose that Harry spent so much time with him because he liked to and not because he felt like he should. They had grown close over the past couple of months, and he wholeheartedly believed that he could trust Harry with his life. Well, what he remembered of it, anyways. And he was pretty confident that even if Harry didn't return the feelings the boy would continue to help him all the same. So what did he have to lose?

Draco was still considering this while he waited for Harry to show up to the library so they could work on their Potions essays together later that day. He played with the sleeves of his Slytherin robe and got a sudden flash memory of himself getting his school robes fitted for him specially, since he had gotten taller and leaner with his growth spurt over the summer. The Draco in this memory smiled at himself in the mirror and liked what he saw: graceful limbs, pale porcelain skin, angled bone structure, blond hair, striking grey eyes.

He had grown up to be a fine young man, the saleslady proclaimed. He would go on to do great things.

Draco felt his mouth curve up slightly at the compliment, but saw that the smile did not reach his eyes. Those eyes were in fact empty, haunting, somewhat melancholy. As if they knew something that he didn't. He wondered what mysteries were hidden in them and what had made them so shuttered in the first place, but he knew that he wasn't going to get an answer in this flashback. Because by the time he looked back into the mirror he did not see himself anymore, but Harry sitting across from him with a patient expression on his face.

Draco blinked at him blankly for a few moments before shaking his head and sighing. "How long was it this time?"

The other boy shrugged. "I only just got here. But I presume that it wasn't very long. What did you see?"

"Oh, just getting my robes fitted the summer before fifth year. The memories are getting closer and closer to the present with every flashback. I should be getting some memories from fifth year now, and then move on to sixth year, seventh year, the war, and everything that happened right up until the moment that bludger connected with my skull."

Harry got a distant look in his eye, and Draco could see that he was feeling worried about it all. "That's… that's going to be a lot to take in, Draco," the boy remarked quietly. "I mean, I obviously don't know what you're going to be seeing once you start the war memories, but I know that the years coming up will be difficult for you to take in. Even I could see that you were very torn about a lot of things that you had to do during those times, and I didn't know you at all then."

Draco tried to push away the feeling of dread out of his chest and shook his head slightly. "I… I think I can handle it. I think that even though I really don't want to, I need to see and feel the things that I did. Take it all in. Figure myself out. Learn from my mistakes, perhaps. I know it's going to be painful, but it's something that I have to do, you know?"

Harry nodded in understanding. "I know. Just remember that I'm here for you, all right? Though some of your memories might—" he cleared his throat with discomfort, "—show me in a very negative viewpoint, I just want to let you know that the me of _right now_ really cares about you, and that everything that I did or might've done back then doesn't change that at all. Okay?"

Draco chuckled nervously. "What did you do, permanently damage me? Obviously not, because I'm here now." He felt another rush of fear when he noticed that Harry tensed up at the insinuation. What _did _he do? He tried to calm both himself and Harry down by forcing a small smile on his face. "Don't worry, you've been my guiding light ever since I got out of that hospital, and a few little memories won't make me forget that. I'll come to you whenever I need it."

Harry looked somewhat reassured, and he leaned back in his chair a bit. "I just wish that there was a way that I could stop all this," he commented, glancing at Draco and then out the window beside them. "So that you didn't have to go through the pain all over again."

Draco smiled, somewhat bitterly. "Ah, but that's just the way it is," he muttered. "And besides, you can't always go around saving me. There are just some things that just can't be helped."

Harry tilted his head and studied him, as if he were mulling over whether or not to accept a challenge. Because to him, everything was salvageable. But to Draco, some things just weren't. He supposed that was the perfect example of their opposite personas, and why they worked together so well. Draco smiled to himself. It was funny, because he, Blaise and Pansy had only recently discussed this, and Pansy had suggested that she thought the reason why he and Harry had such great chemistry was because they were complete opposites in everything—therefore, bringing up the theory of opposites attracting. Then Blaise had pointed out that Draco's pessimistic view of life and half-empty glass offset Harry's optimism and half-full glass in a way that let them achieve the status of being quite a balanced, well-rounded pair. That had made them all laugh. Because really, there was nothing _balanced _or _well-rounded _about either Harry or Draco. But then again, he supposed that was the main reason why they liked each other so much in the first place. He looked back up to find Harry just a bit closer to him than he had been before.

"We'll see about that," the Gryffindor finally answered with confidence, shooting Draco a lovely smile. "I'm not very good with rules and regulations, you see. Sort of been known to make a few, break a few."

"You can't always override the system, you know."

"Yeah, not always. But sometimes."

Draco shook his head. "Not most times," he argued.

"It's possible."

"Also possibly not."

"Reachable, perhaps."

"Or perhaps just a grain too far."

Harry shot him an exasperated look. "Sometimes your pessimism kills me," he remarked lightly.

That again reminded Draco of the opposites attract conversation, and he smiled. "I don't think of it as pessimism. I like to think of it as realism," he stated.

"Fine, realism then. It sucks."

Draco bit back another smile. He mirrored Harry's previous actions and leaned back in his chair. "I know." Then he looked down at his robes again and sighed. "I wonder if I got new robes since then. I don't seem much bigger than I was in fifth year. Perhaps these are the same ones from my flashback." The idea was fairly appealing. Well, at least it might give him some kind of connection with his prior self.

Harry made a small noise that sounded like a poorly disguised scoff. "You got new robes every year, Draco. It didn't matter if you grew or not, if you could afford nice things you would buy them."

Draco shrugged. "That makes sense, sort of. I _do _have a lot of clothes in my dresser." He paused. "So I guess that was my only growth spurt then."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I remember that summer. You came back and all the girls were checking you out on the train. I was quite jealous of you when I caught my crush of the time doing it too, mind you. But you had _definitely _filled out over the break."

"Oh, so I assume that you were checking me out as well?" Draco teased, noting that the colour of Harry's face became a shade darker at his playful tone. Interesting. "Too bad that was the year I turned gay though, according to Blaise."

Harry let out a small laugh. "Of course," he mocked, shaking his head. "I bet that every girl at school was probably mourning the loss of such a gorgeous specimen."

"Damn right they were," Draco replied, pretending to sniff the air and toss his hair haughtily. He grinned when he saw Harry chuckle again at his exaggerations. The real funny thing was that his impersonations were probably not too far off the mark from what he was actually like before. But he could make fun of himself, if only to make Harry laugh like that.

"In all honesty though, I doubt that they were really too upset. I mean, how could they be when they've got you around with all your heterosexual glory?"

Harry leaned forward and shoved his shoulder, and they both dissolved into giggles again. "Seriously, Draco," the boy managed, his words somewhat indistinct through his laughter, "we should get started with our work. This essay is due tomorrow."

Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Who are you and what have you done with the real Harry Potter?" he demanded.

The Gryffindor chuckled. "You're right, that felt so wrong. Here, let's try it again, except I'll be the one fucking around and you can be the killjoy."

Now it was Draco's turn to shove the other boy, and then they giggled some more. But after a while he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. They really _did _need to write their essays. "Let's just get to work, you prat," he muttered, pulling his stuff out of his book bag. The other boy nodded and mimicked his actions obediently.

They spent the next hour focused on their assignment, Draco doing most of the work as Harry only wrote down what Draco told him to write. But he didn't mind, because the confused look that had permanently formed on Harry's face was so adorable. He had noticed that the scruffy-haired boy scrunched his nose delicately and bent his head down real low next to his quill when he was deep in concentration, and it was mesmerising.

And this was the time that Draco took the chance to really look at Harry. His eyes scoured the other boy's face hungrily, every angle, every line, every colour. The sharp outline of his eyebrows. His thick, dark lashes that fanned out at the tips and dusted his eyelids when he blinked. The natural pink tint of his lips, slightly dry and rough from being bitten so much. The strong line of his jaw. The almost invisible freckle near his ear. The fringe of ink-black hair that just barely concealed a faint, crimson scar. Features. Famous features. Features that Draco loved because they were Harry's, not just the _Boy-Who-Lived_'s.

Suddenly, Harry looked up and Draco was caught off guard, almost falling out of his chair in surprise. He hadn't realised that he had been leaning in so close. Harry coughed and frowned. "Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?"

Draco almost chuckled at his innocence. Such a little Gryffindor. "No, I was just thinking," he began. He noticed that Harry's eyes flicked down at his hand, which was unusually close to the other boy's. It was then that he remembered what he and Blaise had talked about this morning, and what his friend wanted him to do. Maybe it _was _worth a shot. He continued on with this new mission with renewed determination.

"About you. And how fantastic you are. No, really. Don't protest," he raised a hand, stopping Harry from opening his mouth and ruining his speech. Then he used that hand to brazenly take the other boy's across the table. "You are. I mean, here I am, having been the biggest prat to you on the planet for 8 years, suddenly always asking for your help. And here you are, giving it to me without hesitation. Even after everything we've been through, every insult, every disagreement, every fight, you're here. And I'm truly thankful for that."

Harry looked like he was about to die of embarrassment and discomfort. "It's only fair of me. I know that you get tired of hearing this, but I really am sorry for getting you into that accident. That's always in the back of my mind. But then again, that's not the only reason why I refuse to give up on you. You know why that is?"

Draco shook his head, and Harry gave him a tiny, sad smile. "Because I gave up on you the day that we met and I've regretted it ever since. I never should have refused you then. Because maybe if I hadn't, things would have been different for us. For everybody, even."

Draco's throat tightened. "But then, you're not the only guilty one there," he admitted. "I know for a fact that I must've been one hell of a bastard to you. You had no choice."

"Everybody has a choice, Draco. It's whether or not you act upon it."

Draco frowned and looked away. He was getting the feeling that this particular statement was directed at him, but he didn't know how to decipher it yet. Maybe he would come to understand it when he received a few more flashbacks, because it was obvious that he had made some bad decisions somewhere in his life. He was about to open his mouth and ask Harry if he had meant anything by his words, but found that the other boy was looking at something over his shoulder. Confused, he turned around and saw Ron and Hermione coming towards their table. As they got closer, he nodded at them in greeting and Harry smiled at them.

"Hi guys," he said.

Draco saw Hermione's eyes flick down at their conjoined hands splayed across the table. "I'm sorry, are we interrupting something?" she asked innocently.

Ron had noticed, too. His eyebrows were raised, but he said nothing as Harry shook his head. "No, we were working on our Potions essays but we keep getting distracted." He laughed. "Oh well. Snape will fail me no matter what I write. I could turn in a flawless essay and he'd flunk me just because the sky is blue or something."

Ron snorted. "Never a truer statement spoken, mate," he remarked, an amused grin on his face now. "That's why I'm not even going to bother with mine."

Hermione shot him a look. "Yeah, _that's _why," she said dryly, rolling her eyes.

Harry grinned at the both of them. "Why don't you guys sit down? We've got lots of room here."

Draco bit back a groan and sighed. Sure, Harry's friends were not terrible, but he'd rather that it was just the two of them. Besides, Hermione's scrutinising stares were making him quite uncomfortable. With every look she threw at him, he began to realise more clearly at least one of the reasons why he had disliked her so much before. He shook his head, gathering his various things from the table and stuffing them into his bag.

"Actually, I'm going to head out. I've got some plans with Blaise and Pansy tonight," he lied smoothly. "But I'll see you guys later."

Harry gave him a pleading look. "Don't leave me, Draco! I promise that I'll be better," he joked, his green eyes twinkling with delight.

"Oh, love, I'll come back for you, don't you worry," Draco replied dramatically, a small, goofy smile on his face. "I will never leave you, as you will always have my heart."

The occupants of the table all started choking—Harry because of laughter, Ron because of disgust, and Hermione because of shock. Draco held back a smirk as the girl shot another warning look at him. He decided to push her a bit farther by leaning in towards Harry and brushing his lips across his cheek with the faintest touch.

"Miss you," he whispered softly. He tried to ignore the thunderous drumming of his heartbeat.

Harry stopped laughing and slowly turned towards him until they were nose to nose, his eyes glittering with something that Draco could not recognise. "Miss you too," he whispered back. Draco's heart melted into a helpless puddle when Harry placed a small kiss on the tip of his nose and blushed, turning away. Everyone was dead silent for a few moments. Then Draco cleared his throat.

"See you at dinner," he muttered, feeling his own face burning furiously.

He put his head down and spun around, scurrying out of the library as fast as he could without waiting to hear any more goodbyes. Because if he didn't leave now, he would end up launching himself at Harry and snogging the living daylights out of the poor boy, and he couldn't risk that no matter how much he wanted to.

**~x~**

"Harry James Potter!"

Harry cringed back onto the couch at the stern sound of Hermione's voice ringing through his ears as his two best friends stared down at him, having dragged him to the common room only seconds after Malfoy had left the library.

"What the hell was that?"

He sighed and scratched his head. "I honestly have no idea," he admitted, trying not to look either of them in the eyes.

Ron let out a short laugh. "Right, you have no idea why you kissed him on the bloody nose. Really, Harry?"

Harry glared at him. "It's not a big deal. You know that I've kissed him on the lips too, Ron. It's a friendly gesture."

Hermione's mouth set in a straight, firm line. "Oh, and that's another thing you should explain to me, Harry. Why did you tell Ron about the kiss and not me? I had to learn about it from the Slytherin git himself, not the boy that I call my _best friend! _I thought that we shared everything." Her eyes were hard with accusation.

He sighed. "Hermione, I would've told you. But you were all disapproving of me hanging out with him in the first place, I didn't think that you would—" he paused and knitted his brows, "—wait, when were_ you_ talking to Malfoy about it?"

Hermione stared at him blankly for a moment, seemingly lost for words. Then her gaze grew hard again. "Don't turn this around on me, Harry! This is about _you, _and what you were doing with Malfoy a few minutes ago!"

Harry studied her defensive stance and frowned. Hermione had never been good at lying or hiding her emotions. Why had she gone to talk to Malfoy about him? Why was she hiding that conversation, and what was in it that was worth hiding? Suddenly, the little incident in the library wasn't so important anymore. He needed to find out when, where, or what Hermione was keeping from him about Malfoy. Now he stared at her accusingly.

"You said that you thought we shared everything, but you're standing there hiding something from _me. _You have no right to demand an answer."

She started to sputter in indignation and turn to Ron for help, but the redhead shook his head and crossed his arms. "He's right, Mione. You can't ask him for complete honesty if you won't give it yourself."

She scowled at him and crossed her arms, sitting down on the couch across from Harry. "You're just siding with him because he told you about the kiss and not me," she muttered angrily. Ron shrugged, and she sighed. "Fine. I suppose that I can't hide it forever, especially at the rate you two are going. I talked with Malfoy a couple days ago after you and Ron left the library, because I wanted to tell him what I told you, Harry—" she glanced at Ron, realising that she needed to explain, "—that he needed to be careful and not to mess around with your feelings. Because he is, Harry, and you know it! But what you don't know is, you're doing the same thing to him."

Harry exchanged confused glances with Ron. What did she mean by that? And how could she know that for sure? _Unless…_

Hermione took his hand and looked him straight in the eye. "I found a text message in your inbox that day," she admitted quietly. "From Draco. It hadn't been meant for you. But he described the kiss in it, and…" she squeezed his hand gently, "…he confessed his feelings for you. And he found out that I read it and I confronted him about it. He… he really cares about you, Harry. But the reason I hid it from you is that I don't want you to get hurt in the long run. I'm not trying to be mean to you or stop you from being with him just because I dislike him. I'm sorry and I wish that I didn't have to say it, but he's not going to be like this forever. Eventually, he's going to remember unpleasant things or he's going to be cured and you're going to end up alone. I don't want you to have to go through that."

Harry didn't know what to say to her. He didn't know what to say at all. Malfoy had feelings… for _him._ Romantic feelings. Feelings that he didn't even know were possible for a Slytherin—let alone a _Malfoy_—to have. Was he okay with this? He tried to dig deep within him to locate the root of his emotions, past the shock and disbelief, but he couldn't find anything certain. Because all he knew was that he turned into a bloody mess whenever the blond smiled at him. All he knew was that he found himself willing to blow off just about anything to go hang out with him. All he knew was that when he was with him, he felt safe and dangerous at the same time. Calm and scared. Happy and sad. Loved and hated. But was that enough? Was that enough for all the obstacles that they had already overcome and the ones they had yet to face?

"Harry, it's not up to me what you do," Hermione murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's not even up to him. But you know that we'll always be there for you whatever you decide, right?"

"And to pick up the pieces afterwards if anything should ever go wrong," Ron added.

Harry glanced up at him and then back at Hermione, both of who were giving him matching looks of concern now. He smiled, loving them for loving him so much. "I know." Then he got up from his seat and brushed himself off, heading towards the dorms to take a quick nap before dinner. "I'll talk to him about it when I get the chance," he promised them before climbing up the stairs.

But as the seconds, minutes, hours, and eventually days passed, he could not bring himself to say anything about it to his blond friend. Whenever he tried to speak to him about anything other than schoolwork, he froze up and stuttered, ending up with murmured excuses and flushed cheeks every time. Finally, after a whole week of said stuttering and flushing, Malfoy had evidently had enough.

They were lounging around outside on the grass when the Slytherin boy chose to speak up. "Something's bothering you." It wasn't a question.

Harry looked up at him from where he was lying. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you've been acting weird all week. So tell me what's bothering you."

Harry sighed and sat up so that he was face to face with the other boy. "Nothing's wrong, I just—" he willed himself not to freeze up and took a deep breath. "I have a few questions for you."

"What?"

"Um…" he picked at the grass in front of him in bunches. "Well actually, they're about… us. And what we are."

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "We're friends, aren't we?" he asked.

"Yes, of course. But… I just…"

"You just what?"

Harry looked down at his fingers and scowled. He was being such a girl about all this! Why was it so bloody hard for him to talk to Malfoy? Some brave Gryffindor he was, he couldn't even ask his friend a simple question. He sighed and shook his head. Obviously, it wasn't going to happen today. "Never mind," he muttered.

Malfoy gave him a weird look, but decided to drop it. He leaned back against the tree they were sitting under and studied Harry for a moment. "All right. Hey, do you think that I'll ever regain my full memory again?" he asked, biting his lip anxiously.

Harry found himself unable to pull his gaze away from his mouth. Damn him. "Um… I don't know. I reckon you will, one way or another. I mean, you'll still have the basic memories even if Snape doesn't find you a cure right away."

Malfoy nodded. "Right. You know, I've been thinking about it. My old life, I mean. I've been trying to figure something out about it, but it seems like nobody around me knows the answer to it. Because when I go into one of my flashbacks, I can feel that there's something there, something that I'm missing but I can't seem to distinguish. Sort of like I know that I'm looking for something but I'm not sure what that something is. Do you know what I mean?"

Harry frowned. "A little. Do you have any idea what that might be?"

"I don't know, really. My life is just a big mystery to me, and I just can't seem to figure it out. Because yes, on the outside, I was a major jerk with an attitude problem, but whenever I looked at you—" the blond flushed, looking away, "—I mean, in the flashbacks, I just… there was something. And it's clear that whatever it is that I need to look for to figure myself out has to do with you. I don't know whether it was attraction or interest or curiousity or passion… I don't know. I just know that it was strong."

Harry stared at him, not quite understanding what the other boy was referring to. Was he suggesting that the Draco Malfoy of the past had some sort of secret obsession with him? Or that he needed Harry's help to discover the inner workings of the old Draco's mind? He shook his head. Merlin, this entire ordeal was so twisted.

"This is something that you might want to talk to Snape about," he offered, trying for an encouraging smile. "I'm probably not that big of a help on this one. But if you want _my_ input, I have to say that if it's me that you need then you've started out in the right place. After that I don't know."

Malfoy's answering smile was sad. "I'm so alone in this," he stated, almost inaudibly.

Harry widened his eyes and shook his head. "No, no, that's not what I meant at all. I'm here for you, Draco. I'm going to try to understand what you're going through, and you're not alone."

The other boy looked away. "But you won't understand, because you can't. I _am _alone. And if you think about it, we're all alone inside of our minds. Nobody can ever quite understand the complexity of an individual mind, no matter how much we probe and poke at each other's memories," he drew his knees up and put his forehead against them. "I'm the only one who can help me now."

Harry could feel the other boy shrinking away from him internally and he was immediately at Draco's side, one arm around his shoulder and the other under his chin. "No, Draco. Don't shut me out."

"I don't want to drag you into this, Harry."

"You're not dragging me," he told him. "I'm coming along willingly. Even if I can't understand, just let me try. I promise that either way, I won't leave you alone. Not physically or mentally. Not even if you beg me to. I'm _always_ here."

Draco looked at him, his grey eyes starting to get glassy with brimming tears. "I don't want you to feel like you have to do this because I need you. Because I don't, you know. I can do this on my own if I have to. I don't need you, I want you, and that's the difference."

Without thinking, Harry pecked him on the lips, tasting the saltiness of the tears that had spilled from the boy's eyes when he'd spoken. "No, you don't need me, but _I _need you, and _that's _the difference," he murmured. Then he placed another kiss to his lips and brushed away any trace of tears left on them.

When he finally moved away from his face, Malfoy was studying him with wide, uncertain eyes. "You promise?" he asked softly.

Harry wrapped his arms around Malfoy and the boy buried his face into his neck. And with that, he knew. This _was _enough. He had no more doubts about his feelings for the boy he used to call his worst enemy.

"I promise."

**Author's Note: The fluff continues! Okay, so I hope you guys are fine with me moving their relationship along a lot quicker than I had previously planned it to be. It's just that I don't want this fic to be a billion chapters long and I have so much more in store, so I have to speed it up a bit. I'm excited for it, though!**

**All right, so I got a lot of comments on Hermione's little interference with the boys in the last chapter, which made me think of today's topic. I'm generalizing it a little by asking: what do you think of the "Golden Trio"? Who's your favorite, who's your least favorite, who do you think you're most like, and why? Personally, I don't have a favorite because I love them too much to choose and I think they all have good and bad qualities. **

**Harry is brave and selfless, but he is also moody and rash. Hermione balances that out with her compassion and reason, but she is also sort of a stickler and doesn't really know how to let loose. Then Ron balances _that _out with his lighthearted-ness and loyalty, but he is also temperamental and stubborn. Lastly, Harry balances that out with his love and forgiveness and brings it into a full cycle. But then again, they all have love, and that's what makes them so special. I love the trio, I think they're a brilliant mixture of brains, brawn, and everything in between. I don't know if it's possible to be in love with a friendship but if it were, I'm in love with theirs. Perfection. **

**Oh, and I believe that I myself am most like Ron, because though he's got a temper sometimes, he's mostly carefree and he's super devoted to Harry and Hermione. Okay, long author's note! I'll stop now! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Hi guys! Do you like how I'm suddenly updating at the speed of light these days? It's because your reviews pump me up. They really do. I'm excited! But yeah, I love your comments on the Golden Trio, and it made me happy how many of you described them. They're like my sweet, lovely babies. Other than Draco and Harry of course. Anyways. Moving on. **

Chapter 12

Harry was lounging around in the common room, absently flipping through a Potions text and not thinking about Malfoy when Ginny plopped down on the couch beside him. She smiled at him sweetly, and expectantly, as if she were waiting for him to say something interesting or important. But when he just sat there and stared at her back, she sighed and scooted closer.

"Hi Harry," she chirped, "What's new?"

Harry eyed her sunny disposition warily. "Nothing much? Thanks for asking." He pointedly glanced back to his magazine, trying to give her a subtle hint to not say to him whatever it was that she wanted to say.

Evidently, it didn't work, and she jumped up out of her seat passionately.

"Liar!" Ginny exclaimed, pointing a clean, accusing fingernail at his face. "Harry James Potter, you've been secretly snogging Malfoy for a whole two weeks and you haven't even told me!" She put her hands on her hips and glared at him in a way that reminded him of Hermione. He shuddered.

"I don't know what you are referring to," he responded slowly, hoping that she would let it drop.

She didn't. "Oh, really? Because a little birdie told me otherwise. Said you were going around _helping _Malfoy much more than you should." She pursed her lips tightly. "I can't believe you told him and not me!"

Harry scowled in defeat. _Damn it, Ron!_ He needed to remind himself again to stop telling that redheaded blabbermouth these things. "Fine, you caught me. But don't get your knickers all up in a bunch, we're not together." _Yet, _he added silently, as an afterthought.

Ginny looked impatient. "Well, why the hell not? You're not just snogging for _fun, _are you? Because that's just downright disgraceful and completely unromantic!" Harry just shrugged, and she tapped her foot in annoyance. "Really, Harry? You should be ashamed of yourself. I was going to let you off easy on this one, but you're making it so difficult!"

"We're not snogging for fun Gin, he just wanted my help, okay?" Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "And you know, sometimes just because he needs it. He's not in the most stable state right now," he glanced around and lowered his voice, forcing Ginny to come closer in order to hear. "He's beginning to get memories from fifth and sixth year."

Ginny made a small noise of realisation, and sat back down next to him. "Oh, that's going to be rough," she observed quietly. Then she smiled a bit, mischief shining in her eyes. "But that means you'll have to comfort him more, is that right? You like that idea, don't you?"

Harry blushed and looked away from her smiling face. It was weird enough to be talking about Malfoy in that manner in the first place, but talking about it with his ex-girlfriend was not making it any better. No matter how good of friends that they still were.

"Stop it, that's not the point! He's not going to want to be near me when he has the war memories. Hell, I'll probably look like a complete arse to him in those. And the one where I almost killed him with that bloody spell…" he shuddered. "He's not going to want my company for a couple of weeks, maybe less if I'm lucky. Maybe more if I'm not."

Ginny patted his shoulder sympathetically. "It'll be okay, Harry," she said. Then she bit her lip and groaned, looking around. "Damn, do you know what time it is right now? I was supposed to meet somebody at 3."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Who are you going to meet?" he asked slyly.

She raised an eyebrow back. "None of your business yet," she replied with a wink. Then, getting up from her seat and smoothing out her clothes, she turned back to him and lifted her chin a little. "Honest, how do I look right now?"

Harry inspected her up and down, from her multi-coloured striped jumper and brown corduroys to her long, shiny red hair and big, bright eyes. Seeing her standing there in front of him, smiling expectantly and happily at him, reminded him of the day that he realised he had fallen in love with her. And he'd supposed that he had still had that bit of a longing feeling ever since they'd broken up some weeks ago, but for some reason, as of right now, that was completely gone. It was strange, because she had the same simple clothing, fiery hair, and lovely brown eyes since then. She had the same spunky attitude and silliness about her that had attracted him in the first place. She was same Ginny. But maybe the problem was that _he_ wasn't the same Harry. And it couldn't be more perfect.

He grinned at her, because he was just so relieved. Relieved that they had such a beautiful closure.

"You look wonderful," he informed her, truthfully. "Whoever it is would be an idiot not to see that."

She gave him a genuine smile and kissed him on the cheek softly. "You were always so charming, Harry Potter," she chuckled. "Tell Draco that he's lucky you're his."

Harry flushed, and was about to tell her that he wasn't Draco's anything at this point, but she was already halfway out the door and so he sat back and stared into the flames of the fireplace. She was somewhat right, though. Harry _was _Draco's, had been his since the moment he'd taken that bludger for him. Just, the other boy didn't know it yet. After the night that he had kissed Draco, quite unprovoked, he'd been very quiet and okay, maybe he'd been avoiding the blond just a little bit. But he didn't know how to go about what had happened that night, how in the world he would explain himself. What was he supposed to say? _Hey Draco, I know that we've hated each other for 8 years but now that you've had your memory wiped and have seemed to develop some kind of crush on me, do you maybe want to have a go together?_

Gods, that was stupid. No, it was easier just to pretend that the feelings didn't exist. Harry got the sense that Draco felt the same way. He smiled bitterly. It was ironic, really, that in protecting the other from getting hurt by them, they were still hurting. Though he supposed that either way, it was inevitable. It was inevitable because that's just way their lives worked, him and Draco. They were two pawns in a game of endless back and forth, always going back and forth, always losing, never stopping. That was just the way it was. Harry frowned and chewed his lip thoughtfully. It was then that he realised that he'd been thinking of Malfoy as 'Draco' for the past few minutes.

"Draco," he said out loud, letting the word pass through his lips easily. "Draco." Hm. It no longer felt strange rolling off his tongue. It felt normal. It felt good.

"Malfoy," he tried again. He shook his head. No, that was wrong. He decided that he might as well get used to referring to the boy as 'Draco' now, it was easier anyway, to call him that. And when he had been thinking of Draco as 'Malfoy', there was somewhat of a disconnect between the two names that had made him think of them as different people. But, Harry supposed, they were sort of like different people. Because Draco was the boy that he knew, and Malfoy was the boy that he hated. Or didn't understand. Or whatever it was. Harry then realised he didn't really know.

He shook his head and looked up when he felt a shadow cast over him, just in time to catch a small object that Neville threw at him. He glanced down at it to find his cell phone, and tilted his head questioningly at his friend.

Neville shrugged. "It was buzzing a lot in your trunk, so I thought that there was an emergency of some kind," he remarked. "But it was only Malfoy. He's been texting and calling you nonstop."

Harry frowned. While he had been somewhat avoiding Draco, the other boy hadn't been making much effort to communicate with him, either. So why was he doing it now? Suddenly, he felt a rush of worry go through him and he scrolled through his messages, which varied from _Are you there? _to _Call me please. _He frowned deeply and looked up as Neville peered down at him.

"Is something wrong?" the other boy asked.

Harry rubbed his forehead. "I don't know," he answered. "I hope not."

Neville sat down next to him. "Well, do you want to know what I think?"

"What?"

The boy leaned back and rested his arm across the back of the couch. "I think that he needs you right now. I don't know whether it's because of his condition, or just because he wants your company, or maybe just a mixture of both. But I say that you shouldn't keep him waiting."

Harry smiled at him and sighed. Merlin, Neville never failed to astound him with the amount of knowledge that he knew. Because even when he didn't know, he somehow knew, and it was just a special talent that he possessed. That, and making other people feel a lot better. "Thanks, Nev. I'll think I'll go see him now. Do you reckon that I should—"

"The map is in your trunk, too," Neville interrupted, finishing his thought. "Yeah, I sort of came across it when I was searching for your phone, I hope you don't mind. Malfoy's out by the lake right now."

"You know how to—? Never mind," Harry chuckled, getting up from his seat. "You're a real prize, you know that?"

Neville beamed. "Thanks. Now go get your man."

"He's not—"

"Just go get him, Harry."

Harry almost laughed in delight at the impatient, commanding tone that the other boy never seemed to use. It was a rare thing to witness, but of course, Harry was an expert at rare things. "Of course, Nev. I'm going!"

He rushed out of the common room and flew down the corridors, not stopping to catch his breath until he was well outside of the castle and heading in the direction of the lake. When he finally reached it, he spotted a figure sitting at the very edge of the water, blond hair softly blowing back in the wind. Harry inched forward and sat down next to him. He didn't say a word for a couple of minutes, as the boy didn't even look up to acknowledge him yet.

"Hi Draco," he murmured at last, almost afraid to break the welcoming silence between them.

Draco didn't say anything for a few more moments. Then he turned and looked at him, and Harry could see that his eyes were red and puffy as if he'd recently been crying. "Harry," he croaked, sounding broken.

Harry immediately threw his arms around him and pulled him into an awkward sort of sitting-embrace. "Tell me what's wrong, please," he whispered. "Is it your visions?"

Draco squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. "I've finished fifth year," he breathed, his voice so low and soft that to Harry it almost sounded like a faint breeze. He said no more after that, but Harry knew exactly why the blond had been crying now. He knew exactly what the Slytherin boy had been instructed to do the summer before sixth year, and that knowledge gave him unwarranted chills running through his body. He hugged Draco closer and rested his head against his shoulder.

"I know it's hard, Draco. But those days are over, now. They're memories. You can't let them take over you."

Draco sniffled and nodded. "I know. But it's so hard not to let them when I don't even know who they're taking over. Me… or the _other _me."

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled, turning his nose into Draco's shirt and getting a large whiff of cinnamon and flowers, a scent which he suspected was probably the other boy's cologne. He didn't know what else he could say to make him feel better, but he desperately wished that he did. It seemed like all he could do was offer his arms to hold him, and he wondered if that was enough.

"Me too."

"For what?"

Draco cracked a teeny smile. "I don't know. I was just saying that to get more of your pity," he confessed.

Harry's heart raced a little when he thought of what Draco might have meant by _pity. _"Wanker," he grumbled anyway, to conceal the fact that he was pleased by it.

The blond bit his lip to keep from smiling some more, and then looked up at him again.

"Harry…"

He saw the determined look on Draco's face and his heart immediately plummeted to the pit of his stomach, and he didn't know why. Whether it was with excitement or dread, it was coming, there was no doubt about it.

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to know if—" a distant bell rang, signifying that it was time to go to class, and cutting Draco's words short. They looked at each other, the silence between them hanging heavily and expectantly. Draco was the first to sigh in defeat. "Let's go," he said, picking himself up and holding a hand out for Harry to take.

Disappointed as well, Harry took it. He let Draco hoist him up and they began walking back towards the castle again, still in silence. And Harry would have been worried by it, but then there was the small fact that Draco hadn't let go of his hand and that sort of pleased him enough to keep him quiet.

**~x~**

Harry shouldn't have been out at this time of night, but he couldn't help but try and sneak back into the Slytherin common room just to see if Draco was awake. Their interrupted conversation by the lake was still bothering him, and after tossing and turning about it for a couple of hours, he decided that the only way that his mind could be mollified was if he could finish that conversation.

So that was why he was sneaking around underneath his invisibility cloak at 1 in the morning, desperately trying to find the Slytherin entrance in the dark. And he hadn't wanted Snape to randomly appear and catch him, so just in case, he didn't bring his wand as a light source and had decided to search blindly. But now that he thought about it, it was a terrible idea. Wandering around in Slytherin territory in the dark, very alone, and very defenceless? Very _stupid._

Harry cursed silently as his foot snagged on something and for the third time that night, he fell to the ground with a dull thud. "Damn it," he muttered, wincing at the pain shooting through his knee. And as he looked up, he noticed a sliver of light coming from the door that he was directly in front of. He frowned and peered into the darkness. Who was still awake at this time of night? Harry stood up gingerly and pressed his ear to the door, eagerly listening for any sort of noises. After a couple of minutes and nothing at all, he was about to give up and leave, but then he heard somebody curse after a loud thud. He leaned back and listened again.

"Son of a—_ugh_," he heard the person yell once more, followed by a clattering noise and another thud. "I don't understand why this thing is being so difficult!"

"Patience, Severus," another voice said. Harry realised that it was Dumbledore's. "You'll get it in time."

"No," growled Snape, evidently furious, judging by his tone of voice and just the plain nature of his character. "I can't do it. This is hopeless."

"You can do it, and you will do it. Remember that this is for your godson, Severus. Remember how much he needs it."

At the mention of Draco, Harry gasped and moved his head, resulting in him colliding it with the door quite loudly. He gasped again, quieter, his eyes wide and his breathing silent and baited. Had they heard him? Of course, Dumbledore had. "Would you check outside, Severus? I thought I heard a noise."

Harry panicked and backed up, cursing and searching the area for some place to hide. But it was impossible, even if it wasn't so dark. He already knew that there were no hidden alcoves around here. The door swung open and a burst of light hit Harry's eyes, and he staggered backwards again. Snape was peering into the hallway with a frown, his black robes swirling around him ominously.

"Who's there?" he called out roughly. "Get back to your dorm before I give you a week's detention with the cauldrons!"

Harry squeaked and turned around to flee as quickly as possible, when the sound of Dumbledore's voice stopped him. "Harry, dear boy. I know you're out there. Come in here, please, Severus won't do anything."

Harry cautiously made his way back towards the door and the scowling, black-haired man standing in front of it. "What? It's _Potter?_ I should have known. Sir, you must understand that it is imperative to punish him for being out at this time of night! Otherwise, he will never learn."

Dumbledore chuckled, and the sound of it made Harry calm and he more boldly stepped past Snape into the room, the cloak slipping off of him as he did. "Oh, but our little Harry won't ever learn, so it's quite all right," the old man remarked cheerily. He motioned at Harry. "Please, come here."

Harry came closer towards him and noticed a black cauldron sitting on the table in front of him, bubbling some sort of concoction. He also saw an array of ingredients littering the floor, along with another black cauldron, and he realised that he was in Snape's personal laboratory and quarters. And as he glanced around, he caught sight of another door that led to what he supposed was a bedroom before turning his attention back to the cauldron in front of him.

"What is this that I'm looking at, Sir?"

Snape had shut the door and was gliding back towards them with a certain air of mixed grace and arrogance. "Draco's antidote potion," he answered gruffly, poking at it a little with a small root. "It's not ready yet."

Harry looked at the two men worriedly. "So it's not going well?"

Dumbledore sighed. "No, it's being a bit complicated at the moment. We're trying, though."

Harry felt a sense of relief go through him, but he tried not to let it show on his face. Evidently, he wasn't very good at it, because Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously as he sneered at him. "You know that he cannot remain this way forever, Potter."

Harry hung his head a little. "I know, sir," he replied quietly.

"Harry, my dear boy. You best be going back to your dorm for a bit of sleep now," Dumbledore said, gesturing at the door. "We have work to do, and you have classes in the morning."

Harry sighed and turned to leave, ready to obey the Headmaster's orders. But Snape called out after him before he could open the door. "Wait, Potter," he said. He rummaged through one of the drawers by his desk and held out a small vial. "Give this to Draco."

Harry took it and inspected the silvery liquid contents. "What is it?"

"No need for questions, Potter. Just do it. I did not get the chance to give it to him at dinner, because I had a meeting to attend. But it is essential that he gets it, so I am positive that you will have no trouble issuing it to him as soon as possible."

"I want to know what it is, first."

"That is not your business, so you will do well not to ask," Snape snapped, glaring at him.

"I won't give it to him until I know for sure that it isn't some sort of poison," Harry remarked boldly, glaring back at the man.

Snape looked like he was about to explode. "How dare you! If you thought for _one moment _that I would do something that would endanger_ my_ godson, so help me I will _chop_ off your tiny—"

"Now, Severus," Dumbledore insisted.

Snape calmed down a bit, the fire in his eyes flickering down. But his gaze still burned as he looked at Harry. "You are not the only one who cares about Draco," he reminded him coldly. "You are not the only one who does not want to see him in pain."

"I want to know what is in the vial," Harry repeated quietly.

Snape closed his eyes and sighed tiredly. "It's a potion that disguises his scars," he answered in a low voice. "What he does not know cannot hurt him."

Harry stared at him in disbelief. How could the man even say that he cared about Draco, when he was only setting him up for _more_ pain and suffering in the future when he did find out? Didn't he know that Draco was going to discover those memories? Didn't he know that he was fragile enough as it is? Draco was going to _break _when he realised the truth. Harry glared up at Snape with intense loathing. At that moment, he never hated Snape more.

"You're lying to him," he managed to get out through his gritted teeth. "You're lying to him and he's going to hate you for it!"

Snape flared up again at him, leaning in so that the impact of his glare was even stronger. But Harry didn't even bat an eye. "I'm _protecting _him!" the Potions Master yelled.

"He's going to remember!" Harry screamed back. "Don't you know that? He's going to find out what happened to him! And he's going to wonder why he hasn't got any scars now!"

"You should be _thanking _me," Snape spat, circling around the desk to face him properly. "This way, you don't have to explain to him how and why he got those scars, and _who_ gave them to him!"

Harry winced a little at that. "It was your spell," he shot back, but his voice was a bit wobbly and unsure.

Snape grinned maliciously at him, sensing that guilt was his weakness. "But it was you who cast it," he sneered, coming closer. "It was you who made him bleed. It was you who almost murdered him, Potter. He's going to see that. And it's not going to be me who he hates, it's going to be _you_."

Harry stared up at him with wide eyes, not knowing how to respond. Snape had just voiced his worst fear. The fear that he had kept within himself, the one that he never mentioned in hopes that maybe they would go away if he didn't. He couldn't provide an arguement for what Snape had said, because it was true. Draco would hate him.

Dumbledore's soft voice spoke for him, clearly attempting to dissolve the situation here. "You are both on the same side," he reminded them. "Do not forget that."

Harry turned to leave, but before he did, he looked back at Snape with quiet resolution. "I'm not afraid of what will happen," he murmured. "I have faith that he will still care about me when he finds out. And if he doesn't, it doesn't change the way I feel about him."

Snape just stared back at him, the malice completely gone from his eyes, replaced with something else that he couldn't detect. It looked like resignation, and sadness. "I understand, Potter," he finally responded.

"Then you will understand why I'm doing this," Harry said, pulling the vial out from his pocket. He shot Snape another glance before dropping it on the floor, causing it to break into a million shards and the liquid to spread across the ebony tiles.

Snape looked livid. "I will not allow this behaviour!" he nearly shouted. "And 30 points from Gryffindor for making a mess in my quarters!"

"You can take all the house points you want," Harry replied simply. "But I won't have him hate me for this too."

He whirled around and marched out the door without looking back, throwing his invisibility cloak over his head and whispering a quick, wandless _Lumos. _He was still going to Slytherin, all right. But he was going there to tell Draco the truth before he found out the hard way.

**~x~**

Draco sat alone in the common room, staring at the empty fireplace with an equally empty heart. He'd already had a couple more visions since he'd last been with Harry by the lake, and they had all been just as terrible as the first. He saw himself attempting to mend the Vanishing Cabinets in the RoR (another reason to hate that damn place), and himself as he tried again and again to subtly kill the Headmaster with small tricks (he remembered the drink that had almost killed Ron and now partially understood why the boy hated him so much), as well as a lot of himself shaking and crying and begging his father to ask Voldemort to change his mind. Every time, the answer was no.

But all he could think about right now was the one he had had that morning that caused all of these visions. The one that started it all, guiding him down the horrifying path that he used to call his sixth year of school. His father had informed him, quite stiffly, that he had been selected for the 'honour' of killing the Headmaster. But everybody knew that it was just a punishment to show the rest of them the disgrace the Malfoy family had earned. And Draco knew this most, because he understood that the Dark Lord had set him up to fail and that indeed, he did fail. He envisioned Dumbledore's smiling face and shivered. Evidently. Draco wondered why he was even still alive after such a monumental failure. Hadn't Voldemort been angry?

He sighed, picking at the ends of his silk pajama top absently and staring off into the darkness. It was one thing to be a part of a war, but it was something completely different to be a contributor to it. And that's what he was, really. A young, naïve, stupid contributor. He was just now realising the seriousness and the terror of war, and technically to him, it hadn't even started yet. He imagined a battlefield full of people hexing each other right and left, people dying—students, parents, children, loved ones. He imagined himself hurling curses at his classmates, hurling curses at Ron and Hermione, a certain Harry Potter right behind them—

He shook his head, trying to clear the image. _Harry, _he thought sadly. _Not just a part of the war, not just a contributor. The very cause. _The boy had the weight of the wizarding world all on his shoulders. He had had everything to lose. Draco suddenly felt a wash of sympathy go over him for the Gryffindor instead of himself. _If only I hadn't been so stubborn back then, _he mused again, to himself. _I could've been on his side all along. _

Draco was whipped out of his thoughts when he heard the portrait door swing open, and he turned around in slight fear to see whom it could be. It was late, and he doubted that any of his Housemates would be out at a time like this. He almost sighed out loud in relief as he saw Harry appear out of nowhere, holding his cloak in one hand and a balled fist in the other. Then he frowned.

"Harry, what are you doing here?"

The other boy looked frazzled. "I have to talk to you," he said, coming towards him at a frantic pace.

"Okay, but why are you—" Draco felt the effects of another vision coming on, and he widened his eyes and shook his head. _Not now. Oh, not now. _He just knew that it was going to be another one of those terrible ones, and he didn't want Harry to see him break down again. He'd already seen that way too much.

Harry seemed to realise what was going on, and he started to become hysterical for no good reason that Draco knew. "Draco, no! Wait, please don't, I have to explain to you why—"

The other boy's voice grew distant and quiet until it was nothing but a faint buzz, like a fly passing by his ear, then everything was dark and blurry. But as Draco slowly regained his sense of sight, he noticed that the sound was not coming from a fly, but the flickering lights of a dim, dank bathroom. He looked up and was surprised to see himself looking back, the reflection in the spotty mirror even more pale and angular than he had last seen. The main difference was that the boy staring back at him was frightened, visibly shaken by something. Then Draco noticed that he had taken off his jumper and that he was sweating profusely, so he leaned over the sink and splashed a bit of water on his face to cool off and calm down. And even though he didn't know exactly what was going on, his old self did, and so his body shuddered again and he began to cry. It wasn't a sort of crying that suggested sadness, per say, or even anger. It was a cry of defeat, of giving up, of absolute despair. And it scared Draco half to death.

Suddenly, he heard a noise at the entrance that sounded like the door opening. He felt his body stiffen and he looked up into the mirror again to see a figure behind him staring back. With a heavy heart, Draco realised that it was Harry. His body whirled around to face the Gryffindor, a million thoughts and emotions going through his head. What was he doing here? Had he followed him? What did he want? He felt a surge of fear and anxiety go through him, and Harry's green eyes flashed behind his glasses. It was only just a moment of eye contact, but that moment felt like years to Draco. Years of waiting, years of taunting, years of pain, years of regret. Things that he hadn't even known that he could felt, he was feeling. His old self was feeling.

Draco felt himself hesitate, felt himself stop and deliberate in his mind. _Maybe he can help me. _The thought passed through his brain so quickly that he did not know whether or not he had imagined it. He figured that he had, because the next thing he knew he was pulling out his wand and throwing a nasty hex towards Harry, and soon they were battling it out full on, ducking behind stalls and crawling around on the floor. Draco kept feeling the strong need to surrender, to put his wand down and beg the other boy for assistance. But no, his old self's pride was too much for that. Draco wanted to yell at himself, to plead and cry and scream at himself to stop being so fucking sure. But he knew that he couldn't. He could only watch helplessly. Draco's wand was pointed directly at his opponent to throw out one of the Unforgivables, but he heard Harry shout "Sectumsempra!" first, and a blindingly bright hex came hurtling towards him.

It was like a train had hit him. Or worse, a train had hit him, and then rolled over him with all of its seventy-four cargo cars. The pain was excruciating. He was on the floor, surrounded by spraying water, and he could hardly make out anything but blobs and shapes above him. He vaguely heard Harry scream something and come towards him, leaning over him and shouting more words. His hand twitched, his leg twitched, and he could feel the warmth of his blood oozing from wounds that Harry had inflicted upon him. More figures appeared as blobs and were quite indistinct to his vision. Then he felt somebody start to attempt to heal the gashes in his chest and torso, but he could not see them. He could only see the faint line of Harry's messy head, still above him but not leaning anymore. Off to the side. Worried. Wait, no. Not worried. Not for him.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut and moaned in agony, feeling the tears drip from his eyes but not the will to wipe them away. Another soft hand did it for him, and he opened his eyes to see Harry very close to his face, leaning over him with the still messy head of hair, but he knew that the vision was over. He was back in the Slytherin common room.

Harry hovered over him but did not touch him. He looked very sad, as if he knew exactly what Draco had seen in there. "Do you hate me, Draco?" he asked, his green eyes burning with inquiry and that blatant sadness. They confirmed that they knew what he'd witnessed.

Draco stared at him, the tears drying from his eyes. The boy in his vision had almost killed him. He'd thrown that curse with intent to hurt Draco and cause him pain. He hadn't even looked sorry that he'd done it after he did. Not from what Draco could see, anyway. He couldn't place that boy and the Harry who was watching him with those sad, sad eyes in the same category. Not even on the same planet. They weren't one person. They _couldn't_ be one person. That boy didn't care about him at all, and Harry cared about him very much. Didn't he?

Now Harry was wiping tears from his own eyes. "I'm sorry," he sobbed. "Y-y-you have every right to hate me… I almost killed you."

Draco couldn't believe it. Didn't want to believe it. "No, that wasn't you," he said quietly.

Harry looked up at him in confusion through his tears. "Yes, it was me," he argued. "I threw the curse at you."

No, it wasn't."

"Yes, it was!"

"_No!_" Draco stood up from his seat, forcing Harry to stumble backwards and fall onto the couch across from him. The boy stared up at him with wide, awestruck eyes. "_He _is not you," Draco practically yelled, shoving Harry back with force that he didn't even know he had. "And he never will be, ever again!"

Draco ignored the questioning look in his eye and lunged at him, pinning him to the couch in a sort of weird strangle-embrace. He didn't know whether or not he was trying to hurt Harry or hug him, but decided that it was a strange combination of both and that was okay for now. "Mine," he growled again, attacking Harry's neck with his teeth and ignoring the boy's shouts of protest—or non-protests. "Say that you're mine!"

Harry made a sort of choked, gasping noise and he threw his head back, giving Draco more neck to bite. "I'm yours," he stammered, face turning red. "Draco!"

Draco suddenly felt as though he were drowning and falling into a deep, endless hole at the same time and he stopped, sitting back to bury his face in his hands. "I can't," he whispered, voice cracking with misery. "Why are there so many things wrong with me?"

Harry slowly sat up too, and he reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. Draco flinched at his touch. "Draco," the boy said again, this time quieter and more controlled.

Draco looked up at him through his fingers. "What?" he asked meekly.

"There is nothing wrong with you."

"Yeah, right."

"There isn't," Harry cleared his throat a little in supposed embarrassment. "And I meant what I, er, _said_ before, you know. I_ am_ yours."

Draco took his hands from his face and studied the Gryffindor. "Really?"

"Yes."

He saw the earnest look in Harry's green eyes and immediately melted into his arms, forgetting the fact that he had been so distraught over the boy just moments ago. Because no matter what he'd done before, Harry was here, and Harry was his, and that was the only thing that mattered now. Draco didn't want to think about the past, or about the times that he couldn't remember, but could see quite clearly in his brain at night. He didn't want to remind himself that he still had more than a year of memories to recall. All he wanted to do was be here in Harry's arms, be here in Harry's heart, with him being Harry's and Harry being his. Nothing else. Forever. Always. Finally.

"Don't let go," Draco whispered, leaning forward to taste the dark-haired boy's lips softly, lingering as if he were scared that they would disappear if he didn't.

"Never," Harry promised, holding him tighter to prove that he wasn't lying. He let Draco kiss his lips again quickly before he said anything else. And he did. "Say that you're mine, Draco."

Draco didn't even have to think about it. Though he couldn't remember it, he somehow knew that he had known this all his life. It was inevitable. It was _right._

"I've always been yours," he confessed gently.

That earned him another kiss.

**Author's Note: Whoa, this was a long one! But it's worth it, because they're finally together. Gosh, so much angst. Draco is a sucker for Harry, and Harry is a sucker for Draco. It's a proven fact! And I know that there was a lot of Harry in this chapter, I did it because I feel like I haven't really elaborated enough on his feelings and thoughts in this fic. Or maybe I have? I don't know. Changing it up a bit, I guess. Anyways, I had some other comments for this section, but I can't seem to remember it because my brain is so fried because it's so very late. I'm sorry. **

**Anyways, so guys, what is your favorite brotp in Harry Potter? And if any of you don't know what that means, I'm asking what is your favorite _bromance_? I was just thinking about this because I was squealing over how amazing Ron and Harry are, but then I was like, I don't even ship them romantically, at all. But their friendship makes me all happy inside. Like the fact that Ron was the thing that Harry would miss the most in the Triwizard Tournament? –squeee- I can't. I love it so much. So yeah, tell me your favorites and why! And sorry for my lack of eloquent speech in this note! **


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: So, I apologize for my previous statement of 'updating at the speed of light' or whatever it was that I said, because clearly I am not doing so well with that! I'm very sorry, I have some big tests coming up, and I will probably be quite busy over the next week. So don't expect anything… Although you never know, sometimes I do it anyway because I'm stupid and impulsive like that and I like to write in the middle of the night regardless of what I'm doing the next day. But you're probably hoping for that, right? Okay, enough with the life story. Sorry again, enjoy!**

Chapter 13

Draco felt bad about doing it. He really did. But there was no chance in hell that he was going to let Harry be so obstinate about all this when he really should be listening to what Draco had to say. He didn't know about his past self, but he knew that _he _played to win. And that was the reason why he was sitting on the bleachers overlooking the Quidditch pitch at 8 am on a Saturday morning, freezing his arse off and patiently watching as Blaise carried a bound, kicking Gryffindor out of the team locker room.

After a few long minutes of struggle, Blaise finally managed to drag a very confused, very angry Harry Potter over to where Draco was sitting, so he stood up to nod at him. "Thanks, Blaise," he said, peering at his tied up friend. "That'll do."

The other Slytherin snorted. "_That'll do,_" he mocked Draco, shoving the bundled Harry right into his arms. "Memory loss obviously hasn't made you any less bossy."

Draco held back a smirk and nodded at Blaise again, who grunted and took the silencing charm off of Harry. And as soon as he could speak, Harry immediately began sputtering protests. "Are you two mad? Why have you tied me up and brought me to the pitch?" His lovely eyes widened. "Is this a prank? Because I swear to Merlin, Draco, I will get you back for this!"

"Calm down. It's not a prank. I'm helping you."

"Oh? And how is having Zabini break into Gryffindor and kidnapping me from my bed _helpful_ to me?" He gave Blaise a strange look. "And how the hell did you even get _in_ there?"

Blaise only smirked mysteriously, and Draco sighed. "I'm sorry, but I didn't see how I could do this any other way. You've been avoiding this for weeks, Harry."

The boy's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Avoiding what?"

"Why, Quidditch, Harry!"

The other boy's eyes widened in understanding as the Gryffindor Quidditch team emerged from around the corner of the castle, all carrying their brooms and wearing their uniforms. Ron was in the front, wielding the Captain's badge, and smiling triumphantly.

"We missed you, Harry!" The redhead yelled, holding up Harry's old uniform for him. "We're not the same without you!"

Harry gaped for a while, then looked at Draco. "What…? How did you get them to…?"

"Never mind that," Draco interrupted, waving him off. He had had some troubles regarding getting Harry's ginger friend to listen to him, but after he had tracked him down, the other boy was quite willing to comply with him. Besides, everybody wanted Harry back. It was a win-win situation.

The Gryffindor looked around at his friends for a few moments, and then shook his head. "I can't play," he muttered, wriggling in his ties. Draco silently took them off for him, and he rubbed his sore wrists. "I don't feel confident enough to."

Blaise snorted. "_You _don't feel confident enough to play _Quidditch?_ Honestly, who do you think you are? Oh right, we _all _know who you are! The fucking Boy-Who-Lived! Man up Potter, and play the damn game!"

Draco could see the edges of Harry's mouth twitch up in amusement at Blaise's fantastic outburst and the boy looked at him again for a response. He only shrugged. "I know you miss it, Harry," he murmured. "I don't want to hold you back from something that you used to love to do. Come on, you can join the team again, and I can watch you play. I don't reckon I've ever seen that before."

Harry chuckled nervously. "I know you have, Draco, you just didn't like the way I play at all."

"Oh, that was back then. Remember, things have changed since then."

Harry's face flushed a light pink and he looked down at the turf, not wanting to say anything that might give too much away to the others. They still hadn't really had the time to discuss the boundaries of their relationship with their friends, hadn't even really had the time to discuss it with each other. _But, _Draco thought, quite happily, _we do have lots of time to do other things that don't particularly require much talking. _Like kissing. Oh, how Draco would love to kiss Harry right now. But it would have to wait until they were far, far away from here. _Control yourself, Draco. _He turned his attention back to the boy sitting next to him.

"Well…" Harry looked back at his waiting friends again. "I guess I could give it a go. I may be a bit rusty though. It's been a few."

Draco inwardly cheered and urged his friend to get up and go get changed into his uniform. He watched as Harry walked into the circle of Gryffindors and received a multitude of pats, hugs, and yells. Then the boys of the team all went with Harry to the locker room as the girls set up the field for their practice. Draco sat back and observed the happy grin on Harry's face before he disappeared around the corner. He could tell that the boy had been seriously missing the sport, though he would not admit it out loud. But Draco could always tell how Harry was feeling, one reason being that the boy was especially awful at hiding his emotions, then another being that the two of them had been spending quite a bit more time together lately. He smiled and tapped his fingers on the bleachers, rather content with himself.

Draco spent most of the morning watching the Gryffindor team play a few scrimmages, his eyes never leaving Harry as the boy zoomed back and forth on his broomstick in search of the little golden Snitch. That jet-black mop flew wildly around his head as he crouched down low to gain more speed, and Draco loved seeing those bright green eyes and the way that he chewed his bottom lip positively crimson in concentration when he passed by. And from what Draco could see, Harry was quite metaphorically on fire, so he didn't know what in the world the boy had been talking about when he'd said that he might be a bit rusty. He was phenomenal on a broom. Beautiful, even.

Draco stayed the entire practice, even waiting afterwards until Harry had showered and changed back into his normal clothes (or should he say, the faded plaid pajamas that Blaise had dragged him out in, that Draco rather loved). So by the time everybody was finished, it was lunch in the Great Hall and the Gryffindors were beginning to make their way inside to eat. Upon leaving, many of the team members bid a cheerful good-bye to Draco and even Ron had managed a quick nod at him before he turned and made his way into the castle. It was a fascinating transformation, really, as these were the same people who had quivered in their trainers at the sight of Draco when he'd first entered the Great Hall the day after he'd returned from the Hospital Wing. He couldn't say that he didn't like it. Harry was the only one to linger, opting to sit next to Draco on the bleachers instead of leaving. They were quiet for a while.

"Thank you," Harry finally said, clearing his throat. "I haven't flown in a long time, and it was brilliant. Just… whenever I'm on a broom, I just feel so completely right. You know? I guess I forgot about that. That was really fun."

"It looked really fun," Draco replied, actually sort of envious of him. "I wish I could do that." He looked longingly at the broom shed that held the equipment that the team had just used. _Maybe if he could just get Harry to agree to take him... _

As he expected, Harry's eyes followed his gaze. He would definitely get to fly today at this rate. "Well… I mean, maybe you could just fly around for a bit," the Gryffindor offered, slowly. "I could supervise you and make sure you don't fall."

"Oh! I could?" Draco could literally feel himself light up like a small child at Christmas. He felt just a bit foolish but could not bring himself to stop bouncing up and down with excitement.

"But that's a suggestion, I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to," Harry said quietly, probably taking his bouncing as a sign of anxiety. "I know this might be scary for you."

Draco took another look at the hovering broom and shook his head with a small, teasing smile. "Please, I'm so excited. I get to be on a broom! Besides, there's no stray bludgers flying around and even if there were, you wouldn't let me die, right?"

Harry did not look amused at his attempt to joke. His mouth was set in a straight line. "Never mind. You are not getting another concussion, and you are not flying with me today."

"Oh come on, Harry—"

"No."

"Why can't I just—"

"No!"

Draco drooped his shoulders and stuck out his bottom lip sulkily, peeking up at the green-eyed boy with sad eyes that he'd recently been told had gotten him out of a lot of things, and into a few others. Plus, he knew for a _fact_ that the face worked on Harry.

"Please?" Harry made a face, but Draco could see his resolve weakening and continued to pout miserably. "I know you're worried about me, but it'll be fine. We can ride on the same broom if that makes you happy."

Harry frowned. "You want to do that? It can get quite squishy."

Draco shrugged. "Well, you are a smallish sort of lad. I reckon we'll be fine," he remarked, making sure to send the other boy a winning smile to show that he was (somewhat) kidding.

"Fine. Come on."

Draco tried not to squeal as Harry stood up and led him towards the shed. Finally, he could get on a broom! Granted, he did have memories of riding a mini version at the Manor before he went off to school, and also the ones that he had gained over the past few months from previous school years, but that wasn't the same. He had to feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He had to feel the rush of the wind in his hair. The feel of Harry's arms around his waist. Or vice versa, it didn't really matter to him. The point was that he needed to _feel_ it.

Draco pursed his lips impatiently as Harry picked out his broom and inspected it. "Any day now," he commented, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Harry looked over his shoulder at him and shook his head. "It's as if you are the same Draco as before. So demanding," he muttered.

"I am. Except I don't particularly hate you. Because honestly? I rather like you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Just get on the broomstick, you prat." Draco grinned and swung his leg over the stick, letting Harry come up behind him and wrap steady arms around him. "Ready? You get to guide," the other boy whispered in his ear. "Just point it in the direction that you want to go. Okay?"

"Okay. Just kick us off!"

"Fine. Pushy," Harry muttered, lifting them off the ground with a firm kick. Draco felt the strange sensation of falling, but it was like it was upwards into the sky and he was going the wrong way. His stomach flipped flopped and he clutched the wooden stem of the broom tightly. Harry's arms squeezed him in reassurance as they continued to fly up.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. M'fine."

But Draco had never been so scared in his life. Gods, were those people down there, or _ants_? And why the hell was it so cold, it wasn't this cold down on the sweet, sweet ground! He tried to imagine swooping around in loops up here, competing against Harry for a tiny, flashy gold object, and almost shuddered in fright. That took some nerve. Nerve that he apparently did not have anymore.

"Draco! Watch out for that tree!"

His attention suddenly snapped back to his surroundings, finally noticing that they were well off the pitch now and were going to ram straight into a tall branch in a matter of seconds. He jerked the front of the broom upwards, avoiding full on contact but resulting in the back getting stuck in the leaves. Both boys toppled off the broom and scrambled onto the branch for safety, glancing down at the muddy ground far, far below. Draco almost had a heart attack.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked frantically, scooting closer to him carefully to keep his balance.

Draco clutched his arm and nodded. "Sorry. I wasn't paying attention." Then he glanced down at the mangled broom with worry. "And sorry about your broom, too. I'm sure Hermione can fix it."

Harry wasn't even looking at the broom, but his mouth was turned down in a concerned frown for Draco only. "Were you afraid? Merlin, I shouldn't have let you fly today. It's too soon."

Draco managed a shaky smile. "What are you, my mother or my friend?" he teased, trying to ease the tension.

Harry's eyes softened and he seemed to relax a bit, scooting closer again. "I don't know. You tell me," he responded casually, swinging his legs back and forth.

"Well, I'd like to think we're friends," Draco murmured.

"And?"

He blushed. "And maybe just a bit more," he confessed.

Harry lips stretched into a grin. "As in boyfriend?"

Draco resisted the urge to shove him in response, not wanting the boy to fall off the branch. Instead he pecked him on the cheek. "Maybe. Shut up," he said.

"Make me," Harry teased back, leaning in.

Draco smiled and grazed his lips over the other boy's softly, letting him nibble at them as if they were some sort of treat. Harry continued to shower tiny kisses over his jaw until he reached his ear, tugging it gently with his teeth. Draco tried not to gasp. "You like me, Harry?" he asked lightly, watching as the other boy pulled back, emerald eyes glittering.

"A little bit."

"You fancy me, don't you?"

Draco laughed as Harry blushed, still going even when the Gryffindor began to place more baby kisses on his laughing mouth. "You're an annoying git," Harry murmured between pecks.

Draco giggled some more. "I know."

"But you're right, I_ do_ fancy you."

"I know that too."

Harry shut him up again, deepening his kisses so that Draco couldn't laugh anymore. Just when he was quite unable to guffaw any longer and was very content to continue snogging like that, Harry drew away and grinned mischievously. "You know what my cousin would do if he saw us?"

Draco grimaced at the thought. "Leave, hopefully?"

"He'd start singing this song, sort of like a kid's song that makes fun of kissing. He used to sing it rather annoyingly whenever he'd see me even get near a girl, and it was extremely embarrassing. Also, it's quite literal for the situation that we're in right now." Harry grinned again at the surely confused expression on Draco's face and began to go off in a singsong voice. "_Draco and Harry sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g..._"

Draco snorted. "What an idiotic song. Who sits in a tree to kiss?"

Harry bit his lip. "I can think of two people who might."

Draco laughed and kissed him again.

**~x~**

Harry wandered into the common room dreamily, not even bothering to acknowledge his curious Housemates as he entered the premises. Because everything was right. He had a great morning riding his broom for the first time in ages, he was back on the Quidditch team, and he had gotten to spend most of the afternoon stuck in a tree with Draco Malfoy. Harry had shimmied and climbed over and under branches and down the trunk (much to Draco's dismay), and then had levitated the blond and the broom down to him as well. Afterwards, they had spent a good hour walking around the edges of the pitch, talking about random odds and ends that weren't particularly interesting but for some reason had meant the world to Harry. He hadn't even minded that they had missed lunch and most of dinner, but he was sure that his friends were going mad worrying about him. It was just what Ron and Hermione did. So he waited patiently in his favourite seat by the fireplace until they scurried in and headed straight for him.

"Blimey, Harry, where have you been?" Ron asked, plopping down next to him. "Hermione's been worried sick about you for ages."

The girl shot him a quick glare before turning to Harry. "So were you, Ron. Harry, do you mind telling us why you had completely disappeared after your Quidditch practice?" She paused and gave him a tiny grin. "Which, by the way, I'm very proud of you attending."

"Hey, I attend too!" Ron interjected, but Hermione waved him off.

"Of course, Ronald. Anyways, back to the subject. Have you been with Malfoy again?"

"Draco," Harry corrected her, "and yes, as a matter of fact, I have. He wanted to go flying again, so I took him on the broom and we—"

"You took him _flying?_" Hermione screeched, cutting him short. "Are you insane? You could've gotten him killed! He hasn't got any experience!"

Harry puffed up his chest. "We went on the same broom, I had a hold on him the entire time! It was completely safe!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Was it?"

He glanced down at his fingers sheepishly. "Well, we did kind of hit a tree and were stuck in it for a few hours—"

"Harry!"

"Yeah I know, it was stupid, okay?" Harry rolled his eyes and leaned back. "He just made that face and I couldn't help but give into him, it was just so cute. You would have melted if you saw it."

Ron made a gagging noise. "Doubtful. You're mental, mate. Completely mental."

Hermione smiled a little and patted his knee. "No, Ron. Harry's just fallen for him."

Harry gazed at her quiet disposition, both happy and sad for him at the same time. He knew that she knew how this would inevitably play out in the end. He knew that sometime, he was going to have to take her advice and face reality. But as of right now, he didn't want to. He had no intention to. Harry knew that Hermione cared deeply about his safety and happiness, but he couldn't let her get in the way of things right now. And as if in silent acceptance, she didn't protest it.

"Still mental if you ask me," Ron retorted.

"No one asked you," Harry said cheekily, earning a small whack in the shoulder from his best mate.

"Wanker," Ron muttered, sitting up straight in his seat and fixing his robes. "Anyways, we've got a party to go to, right? I reckon the Ravenclaws are going to bring it tonight!"

Harry shook his head. "Not for me. I'm knackered."

"You know, you're going to miss out on Spin-the-Bottle. And you know those Ravenclaw girls have got the most brilliant—" the redhead glanced over at Hermione, who was giving him a sharp warning look, "—er, you know. Minds."

Harry held back a snort. No matter how brilliant the Ravenclaws' _minds _were, he honestly couldn't think of snogging anybody else but Draco at the moment. Besides, he didn't really know if the Slytherin was the jealous type. Nor did he want to find out the hard way. "Ron, you know I'm gay. That won't work."

"You're not gay, you dated my sister. You're bisexual."

Harry took a moment to think about kissing Ginny and compared it to kissing Draco. No competition. "No, I'm pretty sure that I'm gay."

Ron shook his head. "Bastard," he muttered. "My sister is a million times better than your stupid Slytherin best friend."

_Stupid Slytherin boyfriend_,_ _Harry corrected him in his mind, shooting him a guilty smile instead. He'd get around to telling his friends, he would. But he'd rather they go off and attend the Ravenclaw party than stay and have him grilled and lectured for another half an hour. Besides, he was thinking of crashing in the Slytherin dorms tonight. If Draco would let him, that is, and not to mention Zabini and the others.

"Just go and have fun," he said, nodding at his friends to leave.

The two exchanged glances and started towards the exit before Hermione turned around, pausing. "Are you going to stay here all night?" Harry raised his eyebrow as if to say _what do you think?_ and Ron sniggered loudly. The girl sighed and shook her head. "Boys," she muttered, grabbing Ron's arm and leading him towards the portrait.

Harry smiled after them and jumped up, summoning his customary sneaking around items from his dorm and scurried out the portrait. He threw the cloak over his head and automatically took his usual path down to the Slytherin dungeons, careful not to make a single noise while passing Snape's quarters. But as he tiptoed past the door with the sliver of light coming from the bottom, he felt a rush of anger go through him for the man again, thinking about the scar potion that the man had been distributing to Draco. Harry shook his head and tried to ignore his impulsive reaction to barge into that room and demand to know if the greasy Potions Master was still giving Draco that potion. He couldn't risk being caught out again, since there were no promises that Dumbledore would be there to save him from Snape's wrath a second time.

Harry quietly whispered the given password for the Slytherin portrait and it swung open obediently, revealing the dark and mostly empty common room, only lit by the flickering flames of the fireplace. Gregory Goyle looked up from the couch, a pile of scattered parchment covering his lap. His nose was all scrunched up as he peered around the room, indicating that he had been quite frustrated with whatever homework he'd been doing before Harry arrived.

"Who's there?" he called out, standing now and still searching the area. "Pansy, it wasn't funny two days ago and it's not funny now! Stop it!" Harry giggled into his palm, half-amused that Pansy Parkinson had somehow pranked the bumbling Slytherin boy, half-surprised to hear him speak. He felt a twinge of pity for Draco's ex-bodyguard as the boy began to shake in irritation.

"I mean it, Parkinson!"

Harry sighed and slipped off his cloak, revealing himself to be right next to Goyle. "Hiya," he chirped, and the large boy shrieked comically and fell back onto the couch with a crash. Harry tried to contain his laughter but only succeeded halfway, mostly just sounding like he was holding in a sneeze.

Goyle rubbed his eyes and stared at him. "Potter! How did you—?" Then he became silent, as if he had just remembered that he didn't normally talk around Harry.

"You shouldn't underestimate my abilities, Goyle. I reckon you know by now that I was originally supposed to be put in the Slytherin House," Harry remarked, cheered by the gob smacked expression on the other boy's chubby face. Goyle sat up after a while, studying Harry curiously. He made a grunting noise and began to pack up his things and head upstairs, but Harry shook his head and motioned with his hand.

"You know that I was about to go up there too? So if you wanted to get away from me, that's not the best place to hide."

The Slytherin made another noise, but didn't reply. He sat back down and stared at his pile of notes again. Harry sighed and glanced up at the stairs, then back at Goyle. Hesitantly, he walked over until he was right in front of the boy, not really sure why he doing this instead of visiting Draco like he planned. "Do you need help with that? I've actually finished that essay early for once."

Goyle just stared at him, so Harry took it as a yes and plopped down next to him, pointing to the random scrawls of what he recognised as Zabini's handwriting and spouting out random facts he knew about the subject. The larger boy didn't acknowledge him really, but he didn't protest either and unquestioningly wrote down whatever it was that Harry told him to. When they were done about a half hour later, Harry sat back in satisfaction.

"There you go. That should get you a pretty decent grade. Hopefully. Well, better than you would have if you had copied off Zabini's work. You should advise him to write a little more legibly next time."

Goyle gazed at him strangely for a moment. Then, he smiled. "You're not so bad, Potter," he muttered at last.

Harry laughed. "Thanks. Neither are you. But I guess most of Draco's friends aren't really all that terrible." Then he made a face. "Except Zabini. He's a sour bloke, that one."

The Slytherin tilted his head. "You really want to help him though, don't you? Draco, I mean."

Harry couldn't hold back his small smile at the sound of Draco's name coming from the other boy. "You know, I really do. He's fantastic. I see why you supported him so much back in the day," he furrowed his brow in distaste, "actually, I take that back, I really don't. He was a bastard then. But he's better now. Much better."

"Yeah," Goyle sat back in his chair. Then he looked back up. "Weren't you going to see him right now?"

"Right," Harry stood up and gathered his things. "It's certainly been great talking with you. You should do it more often." He started towards the stairs, eager to go to Draco's room and surprise him there. But the sound of Goyle's voice stopped him halfway up and he turned around. "What was that?"

The other boy looked uncharacteristically shy. "Thank you," he repeated quietly.

"No problem, I can help you anytime with your—"

"No, I mean thank you. For coming back for us," Goyle said, his voice cracking, even though it was almost in a whisper. "And I'm sorry for everything that I've done."

Harry sobered a bit and frowned. "I know. I'm just sorry that I couldn't save everyone," he answered carefully, watching the other boy's face for signs of anger.

But Goyle didn't look mad. He just shrugged. "He was my friend, but he was wrong and stupid. I always wish that I could've saved him too, but I honestly don't think anybody could have."

Harry nodded, a lump forming in his throat as he remembered things that he didn't want to remember. It was painful, recalling war memories. It was like losing his friends all over again. Vaguely thinking of Draco and his situation, he turned around and saluted Goyle with a sad smile.

"You're going to be okay, Greg," he murmured, and the other boy just nodded at him in response, seemingly lost in his own thoughts as well.

Harry made his way up the stairs slower, quieter now. When he reached Draco's dorm, he pushed the door open gently and peeked inside, seeing both Zabini's and Nott's curtains shut tight. Draco's though, was slightly open, and Harry tiptoed over and held them back to see inside. His heart almost burst when he found grey orbs staring back at him sleepily, golden hair illuminated like sunshine against the darkness as he lifted his head to look at him.

"Harry?"

"Yes. It's me."

The boy simply lifted the covers in invitation and Harry climbed up onto the bed, scooting over to give Draco more room than he needed, though he knew that the space wouldn't be there for long. He rested his head on one of the soft, down pillows, snuggling in and feeling more comfortable in this bed with Draco than he had ever been in his own. Warm arms quickly surrounded him from behind and Harry could feel even warmer skin pressing against the back of his thin t-shirt, so he turned around to face the other boy in that they were practically nose-to-nose. The heat radiated from Draco's chest and caused Harry to nestle closer to it, almost humming in quiet contentment. Instinctively, he pulled the covers up again to press a light kiss on the other boy's shoulder, but something else caught his eye first.

A long, faded, white scar trailed from Draco's upper torso all the way down to his belly button. A scar that was as clear as day, not at all hidden in the slightest. A scar that would forever remind Harry of the time he had almost killed this terrified, fragile boy.

He felt like he was going to be sick. He'd remembered the way that Draco's chest had bled, profusely, as if it would keep coming and coming until his body was drained of all life. The way that Harry had stood there in shock, not knowing what to do, not knowing whether or not he should do it. The burning hatred and loathing that he'd felt when he cast the damn spell, throwing it with every intention of hitting his target. He didn't even like to try and make it sound better by arguing that he had no idea what the spell would do—he knew it would do damage. It did say it was for enemies, after all.

But had Draco really been the enemy? Harry could never say. He'd always thought that he'd been, up until the point when full-scale war had broken out and he realised that he had bigger fish to fry. It was those childhood grudges and stupid prejudices that made them the way that they were. And it made him sad, it made him angry, it made him regretful that he'd been so ignorant to what was right in front of them. He and Draco had not been sworn enemies. They were just two naïve schoolboys who had no idea what they were up against. And this scar—Harry couldn't stop staring at it—this _scar _was forever, no matter how cleverly concealed their past mistakes were. It was visible proof of his shame and guilt.

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

"It's over and done with. Stop beating yourself up over it."

Harry tore his gaze away from the ugly white scar to find Draco's eyes watching his face intently, his fingers curled around Harry's balled up fist. "I can't, Draco," he mumbled, "because every time I look at it, I just see you dying on the bathroom floor with blood pouring out of your body. And it's my entire fault. I can't see anything else."

The blond's lips curved up in a small, cheerless smile. "It's like living in your nightmares, I know. You can't look at me without being disgusted," he whispered.

"Not disgusted. Guilty."

Draco laughed bitterly. "What's the difference?"

Harry gazed down at the scar again, his heart beating loudly in his chest, and Draco sighed, taking Harry's hand by surprise and placing it directly on the scar in silence. "I'm sorry," Harry breathed, staring down at his hand as if it were a foreign object.

"I forgive you," Draco replied, letting Harry's hand fall from his chest, limp. "If you'll forgive me."

Harry nodded, unable to say anything, and Draco made a noise of contentment while now resting his head on Harry's chest. His soft blond hair tickled Harry's neck pleasantly, and he listened while the boy's breathing became slower and rhythmic, lulling him to drowsiness as well. It was as he was drifting off into the world inside his mind that he realised their compatibility, how they were perfect for each other, him and Draco. Both broken, both messed up, both eternally exhausted. This was something that Harry had not realised he'd been feeling for such a long, long time. And it made him sort of sad and relieved at the same time to know that it was Draco he was feeling it with.

**Author's Note: Okay! So this chapter is mostly fluff, semi-random. Space fillers, people! What do you guys think of the on-again, off-again Slytherin mood of Draco's? I personally think that even though his memory is wiped, our little blond is just a naturally snarky boy. That's just Draco to me! But I can definitely provide more cute, fluffy Draco too. I like them both well enough. **

**Anyways, I noticed that the ending of the last chapter surprised a lot of you in the reviews. Was it a good surprised? I didn't want to add too much angst in there, because honestly, this is only the beginning of it all. But if you think that Draco should have more anger, I can promise you that I can make that happen. That is, if you want him to! Also, I got a couple of questions as to whom Ginny might be going off to see. I honestly have no idea at this point, so suggestions would be nice, guys! Maybe if I get a majority, I'll use whoever that is. Yeah? Or if you don't care, that's cool too. **

**But that brings me to this question: what would you guys like to see more of in this story? Tell me anything you want. You want to see more of a character, a class, a spell, a place, or maybe more fluff, or angst, or sadness? Just let me know. I'll try to incorporate as much as I can into my next chapters. Remember that I am here to please you! ;) **


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: I got a lot of responses about what you guys wanted to see in the story, and I'll try my best to put in as many things as I can. Thanks for the feedback! So I've gone back and edited a few things from this fic, because I've finally planned this out to be about 3 or 4 more chapters. I'm going to try and throw in little details that will move the story along quite a bit, so keep an eye for them, yeah? Love love_ love_ you guys! **

Chapter 14

"You did fantastic today, Harry!" Draco exclaimed, hardly able to contain his excitement as he jumped up and down on the side of the Quidditch pitch. It had been the first Slytherin vs. Gryffindor Quidditch match since Draco's accident and everyone had come to it, expecting there to be high tensions and heated competition, and nobody was disappointed. The score was evenly matched throughout the entire game until Harry had caught the snitch with some brilliant, incredible maneuver that Draco had never seen before. Although, Nott had glumly informed him that Harry happened to do that quite a lot during these matches.

Draco grinned and slung one arm around Harry's shoulder, too proud to even hide the fact that he and Harry were getting a bit too close for friendship. The Gryffindor looked just as ecstatic as Draco felt, pushing his floppy hair out of his eyes and shooting him a winning smile in reply. He put his broom over to the side and opened his arms in order to give a proper hug, and Draco melted into the embrace effortlessly.

"Thanks, Draco. And thanks for coming to the game too, it means a lot," Harry said earnestly, giving him an affectionate squeeze.

"Hey, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Harry's mouth opened to give a response, but Blaise stomped over and shoved at his shoulder first, causing both boys to snap their heads up at him.

"Potter! You absolute _twit!_"

Harry frowned, letting go of Draco and turning to the other boy.

"What's the matter, Zabini? Pouting because Gryffindor beat Slytherin yet _again_?"

"Shut the hell up! You _will_ pay for this!"

"Stop being such a baby. We won, fair and square. You're getting your knickers all up in a bunch for no reason."

"Why you little—"

"Blaise," Draco put his hands up in mediation and stepped in between the two feuding boys before things could get too heated. "Calm down, it's just a Quidditch game."

Blaise rolled his eyes at him. "Draco, where's your House pride? You came out here to cheer for the wrong team! I don't care if you and Potter are best friends now; you ought to show some respect for the Slytherins! Honestly," he huffed.

Draco blushed and looked away from him, uncertain of what to say to that. He hadn't exactly told Blaise the situation between him and Harry yet, and so therefore he couldn't possibly explain to him now how he was really rooting for his new boyfriend, not best friend. It's an unspoken rule that one should root for their boyfriend, wasn't it? Or was that just something that Slytherins should not do? Apparently, there were a lot of things that he, as a Slytherin and a Malfoy, should not do. But for some reason, when he was with Harry, he could care less.

"Lay off him, Zabini. He's right, it's just a game," Harry said, causing Blaise to shoot him a death glare of epic proportions.

"Whatever, Potter. Just don't expect it to be like this every time. We have a few more games until graduation, you know. Slytherin _will_ prevail."

"Okay, Zabini. You keep telling yourself that," Harry agreed good-naturedly, and Blaise gave him one last scowl before turning away.

Harry then glanced at Draco and smiled cheekily. "You Slytherins are such drama queens," he quipped, earning a light shove from Draco. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Drama princesses, how about that? Ow! Now what was that for?"

"That's not any better!" Draco cried, holding his hand up to slap him again. "What makes you think I want to be called a _princess_? You _do_ realise that I'm of the male gender, don't you?"

"Oh, I realise that," Harry said with a wink, while rubbing his arm. "Fine, you're a drama prince. Agreed?"

"It'll do." Draco tried to hide the smile that was threatening to upturn the corners of his mouth. "Now go get washed up and changed. I want to go to the library to finish up homework before dinner."

Harry grinned again. He glanced around, and apparently finding nobody paying any particular attention to them, leaned into Draco and feathered a light kiss on his cheek as a quiet good-bye. Draco felt his face heat up, but he kept his features calm and cool as Harry quickly saluted him and began off towards the locker rooms.

Draco watched him go, letting that held back smile now stretch across his lips before quickly looking down at his feet, feeling the warmth in his chest when Harry gave one of his teammates a high five. He really _was_ glad that he convinced Harry to go back to playing for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. The game truly made Harry happy, and it made Draco happy just seeing him that way. Merlin knows that the green-eyed boy would have deeply regretted not playing in his last year of school later in his life.

When Draco looked up again, he caught a glance of Harry exchanging another high five and slap to the shoulder with Ginny before parting ways into separate locker rooms. He frowned slightly but then shook it off and scolded himself. Harry was allowed to be friends with his ex-girlfriends. Draco wasn't going to stop him from that; he was comfortable with his trust in Harry. Still, it was a bit weird to see them laughing and hanging out when he knew that they were once together, and recently.

A voice interrupted his mixed thoughts.

"So when were you going to tell me that you and Potter are a thing now?"

Draco spun around and faced Blaise, who was leaning against the side of the bleachers and watching him with one raised eyebrow.

"What are you talking about?" he managed, trying to keep his composure.

Blaise sighed. "I'm not an idiot, Draco. I see the way that you touch and look at each other, and all the time lately. How you cheered on Gryffindor instead of your own House just because he's on their team. Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake! And your expression when he's around is aaa-abso-olutely Hufflepuff," he paused and smirked. "Plus, I saw him kiss you on the cheek earlier. You're not very discreet."

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine, you caught me. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you earlier, it's just… I know that you're not very fond of him."

Blaise snorted. "Of course I'm not very fond of him. But who cares? It doesn't matter to me who you go around with, it's not like _I _have to date him or anything. Besides, if he, of all people, can make you happy, then I'm happy for you. Okay? So stop keeping secrets from me. It's supposed to be us Slytherins against the world."

Draco smiled. "You've got it," he promised. He did suppose that he had become a bit distant from his Slytherin friends lately. That was something he needed to work on. Draco looked off towards the locker rooms again, and bit his lip. "You don't reckon that Harry could have lingering feelings for Ginny, do you?"

"Absolutely not," Blaise replied abruptly, causing Draco to look at him with a raised brow. "I mean, of course not. Come on. He's mad about you. Are you seriously questioning your relationship this early into it? That's not very healthy, you know."

Draco would have questioned his strange behaviour, but Blaise's last question had him worrying his lip and he looked at the floor in guilt. "Actually, it's been a few weeks since we've gotten together, I'm not going to lie. Maybe a month or two."

"What? How have I not noticed this for that long?"

"We've been sort of secretive about it."

"Well, there's going to be no more secrets from you, yeah? I've had enough of them for a while."

Draco peered at his friend. He had a sneaking suspicion that Blaise was keeping something from him as well, but did not want to push it too far. He, of all people, knew what it was like to want to keep something to himself for some time. "That goes for you too, mister," he added, casually.

Blaise hesitated for a moment, before rolling his eyes with a nod. "Whatever," he looked off behind Draco, "Looks like the team is finished in the locker rooms. I reckon you got some Potter to catch up on."

Draco shook his head and laughed, turning to find a few quick people leaving the locker rooms as Blaise had said. "Then see you around later at dinner, yeah?"

They exchanged smiles and Draco ran off towards the library, knowing that when Harry did finish cleaning up he'd go straight there. He picked their usual table in the back and spread out his assignments and various parchments from his bag, though he knew that the two of them would probably not get too much studying done. Even if it was simply for show, it gave him something to do while he waited for Harry to arrive.

Some minutes (and more than enough anxious rearranging) later, Harry showed up, his hair still damp from the showers and his clothes rumpled up beneath his robes.

"Hi, sorry I'm late. As soon as I left the locker rooms Seamus and Dean thought it'd be a brilliant idea to soak me with a giant pitcher of pumpkin juice—Merlin knows where they got_ that_ from—and I had to take another shower," Harry sat down and scowled a bit. "They laughed for a good ten minutes, but I bet they won't be laughing tonight when I don't give them my extra washroom time for their little activities."

Draco chuckled and wrinkled his nose. "You have set bathroom times in Gryffindor? That's strange."

"Well, when you've got a dorm of five rowdy, teenage boys sharing one bathroom, there's got to be some limitations. For example, everybody knows that it's not okay to barge in there when Neville's using it, because he gets really uncomfortable and sometimes makes a mess, even though Ron's messier. Although, Ron doesn't really mind sharing at all, so sometimes I use his washroom time. But when Seamus and Dean go in there together you must absolutely stay out or else, but usually they put a sock on the door or something so you don't really have to worry about seeing—"

"Okay, okay," Draco cut him off, "that's enough, I don't think I want to know about any more of your weird Gryffindor ways. Or anything that involves your dorm mates and socks." He shuddered.

Harry laughed and scooted his chair over until he was very close to Draco's. "Oh, but love, don't you want to know all about my life?"

"How about no," Draco said, smirking a little. He received a small shove for that.

"What a good boyfriend you are," Harry teased, pinching his shoulder and reaching up to tousle his hair.

Draco stopped him before he could touch it. "Don't you dare," he warned, pushing his fingers away. "And you could be more low-key with the public displays of affection, you know. Blaise saw you kiss me earlier."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what did he have to say about that?"

"Said he figured it out on his own already, but I highly doubt that. But he gives us his blessing, anyhow."

"Great, because I was really hoping for that," Harry remarked sarcastically. He moved quickly to avoid Draco's mini wrath in the form of yet another shove. "But it's good that you've got that off your chest anyways. Now all I've got to do is talk to Ron and Hermione about it."

Draco sat back in his chair and sighed. "I can't believe that you haven't told them yet. It's been what, a month? I'd have thought you'd go crazy waiting this long."

"A month and a half," Harry corrected, leaning back too. "And yeah, it's been tough. But I wanted this to be just between us for a while, you know? Just our little secret. Besides, Hermione's not too keen on our relationship anyways, though I'm pretty sure that she's figured us out already. Like you said, I'm not very low-key on the PDA scale."

Draco rolled his eyes and looked away, causing Harry to lean closer and attempt to kiss him on the cheek again. Draco held back a squeal and pushed him away.

"Harry, stop! We're going to get caught again!"

Harry ignored his protests and caught him in an arm-lock, chuckling quietly whenever Draco continued to struggle. And after a few minutes, Draco finally let up and stopped moving, allowing Harry to press a few small kisses onto his shoulder and neck. Draco closed his eyes and simply let himself feel. He still couldn't believe that this was his life, that this was real. After everything that he'd seen in his memories—from the wand fights to the fist fights to the verbal fights between him and Harry—it was truly a miracle that Draco couldn't possibly even begin to fathom.

He knew that he was beyond lucky to have someone like Harry be there for him at every hour of every day, unconditionally, unwavering, impossibly faithful. It was the sort of feeling that made Draco's heart leap and his eyes sting and his mouth curve up in involuntary smiles. Something much deeper than companionship, much deeper than any bond that they could've previously created in the 8 years that they had known each other. Something that he could not describe with words that would not frighten him. All he could truly say was, it was _something._

Harry suddenly stopped tickling and fumbling around, giving him a meaningful look. His face was close to Draco's and his eyes were endlessly green, and so impossibly intense that Draco felt the most peculiar sensation of actually_ drowning_ in them.

"Draco?"

He got a feeling that Harry was going to say something very important due to the sobered atmosphere.

"Yes?"

Harry's nose buried into Draco's shirt sleeve. "Have you had any new memories lately?"

Draco groaned and tried to pull back. "You ruined the moment, Harry."

"What? I'm just asking."

Draco rolled his eyes. Sometimes, his boyfriend was completely dense. "Don't worry about that right now. I'm fine."

"I just want to know how you're doing, that's all. I mean, I've noticed that you don't like to talk about them as much lately—"

"You know, sometimes I like to have conversations that don't revolve around my condition," Draco snapped, without meaning to.

He found that lately, his visions had gotten more and more dark and violent, starting with his intentions to murder Dumbledore and his escape from Hogwarts, all the way down to the days in the Manor when he'd watch his father torture various prisoners held in the dungeons. It was all getting quite overwhelming, but he didn't want to go to Harry about it. Because one, he didn't want to worry the other boy, and two, he figured that it was something that he needed to deal with on his own. But it was frustrating when all Harry ever wanted to talk about was memories this, visions that. It's like that was all he could think of to say, and that fact affected Draco even more than the visions. He sighed and rubbed his forehead when he saw Harry's face fall at his harsh tone.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he amended. "I just… I don't want you worrying about me all the time, okay? It seems like all I ever do is whine about it to you, and that all our time is spent with me either brooding over a memory or crying over one. I hate putting you in that position. I just want to spend time with you and talk about normal things, for once."

Harry nodded, almost reluctantly. "Okay," he hesitated. "But I mean, don't be disinclined to tell me anything if you need to. That's what I'm here for, remember?"

Draco gazed down at his lap sullenly. "But I don't want that to be the _only_ thing that you're here for," he murmured.

"Is that what you're worried about? That I'm only here because of your condition?"

Draco didn't say anything, and Harry shook his head, seemingly in disbelief.

"Draco, how many times do I have to tell you that I genuinely care about you? Sure, your condition may be the reason why I started in the first place, and it may be something that captures my attention now, but honestly. It's you that I'm here for. It's always been you. I don't care that you're not perfect, and I don't mind if you sometimes need me to hold you and listen to your pain. Because even in a million years, whether or not you remember it, I'm going to be there, condition or no. I promise. You're mine, okay?"

Draco smiled and nodded, and Harry glanced around quickly before leaning in and nudging his nose with a small Eskimo kiss, which was followed by a soft, real one. Draco was about to press back into the kiss, but Harry suddenly became alert and pulled away, disentangling himself from Draco's body and turning around in his seat. Confused, Draco whipped his head around, hearing a quiet set of footsteps coming up from around the corner of a nearby bookshelf. He stole a quick glance at Harry, who shot him a lovely smile and pushed a set of parchments toward him.

"So, what'd you get for this one?" Harry asked him, quite loudly.

Draco looked down at the sheet and shook his head. "I'm not going to tell you the answers," he said. "You have to do your own work."

Just as Draco finished his sentence, Ron and Hermione came around from the corner and Draco sighed in relief that Harry had stopped them from catching their intimate embrace only moments before, as Harry still hadn't told them yet. When the two caught sight of Harry and Draco, they both nodded, faces oddly devoid of emotion.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione greeted quietly, "Draco."

"Hey," Ron added, with a mutter.

Harry looked between the two of them, his brows slightly furrowed. "Hello. I didn't think that I'd see you guys around until dinnertime."

"We'd thought we'd go for a stroll," Hermione said, her brown eyes flickering from Draco to Harry.

Draco cleared his throat nervously. It seemed that nowadays, every time he was around both Harry and his friends, it got all tense and strange like this. Especially Hermione. She was always studying him with those piercing eyes of hers and it was just unnerving. Draco didn't know how Ron, and not to mention Harry as her friend, dealt with that all the time. He knew that personally, it was only a matter of time before he completely lost it around her, which would _not_ be a pretty sight to see.

"That sounds nice," Harry remarked, also looking a bit uncomfortable now with Hermione's staring.

Ron looked at his friend questioningly. "Harry, I was wondering if you might be able to help me with my Charms essay. It's due tomorrow and I haven't got a word written down yet."

"Sure, give it here."

"Um, actually," Ron's eyes flickered towards Draco, "I thought we'd go back to our dorm. It's more private there, and um, I left it in my trunk as well. Can we go back there now?"

Draco watched Harry frown a bit before nodding. "Sure, Ron," he turned to Draco. "You don't mind, do you? We can come back here after dinner to finish our assignments if you'd like."

Draco shook his head; not wanting to sound too worried. It seemed like Harry's friends wanted to discuss something with him in private, and Draco wasn't about to butt into that. And besides, if it were something important, he was sure that Harry would inform him of it later. He wanted to spend a bit of time with Blaise and Pansy anyways, considering that he'd been sort of neglecting them for a few weeks now.

"Sure, that's fine. I'll see you all at dinner," he agreed.

Harry stood up with his friends, turning to leave. But before he did, he looked straight at Draco and held his fist to his chest briefly, as if keeping a secret. Draco grinned back and mirrored him in response. It had grown to be a thing of theirs, sort of something they did as a parting gesture, as well as sometimes in class when they shared a secret moment. It meant, _good-bye, _or _I miss you, _or _I hope to see you soon. _It meant,_ thank you. _At least, to Draco it did.

Draco felt Hermione's eyes on him one last time before the trio turned around and walked out of sight behind the bookshelves. He sat back in his chair for a while, thinking that if he didn't have Harry, he didn't know where the hell he'd be now.

**~x~**

"So where's that Charms essay?" Harry asked, plopping himself down on the couch in the common room, where Ron and Hermione had led him from the library. He didn't particularly believe that they had drawn him away from Draco because of a simple school assignment, but he couldn't help but try it out anyways.

His two friends exchanged looks, and sat down.

"We know about you and Draco, Harry," Hermione said softly.

"Yeah, we fancy each other, you know that," Harry answered nervously, not quite understanding what Hermione was trying to say. Or rather, not wanting to understand it.

"No, I mean, we know that you're together now. Have been for a while, haven't you?"

Harry stared at them for a bit. Then he sighed. "Yes," he admitted.

"Why didn't you just tell us, Harry?" Ron asked quietly, looking slightly hurt. "I mean, we had our suspicions and all—well, Hermione did—but you never outright told us. Why?"

Harry sighed and looked at his friends. "I'm sorry. I just… I didn't want you to worry about me. Hermione, you especially. I know that you think that Draco and I are a bad idea, but I want you to understand that I can't turn away from him now. The moment I agreed to help him—I was lost. I know that it's mental, but there's nothing in this world that can make me see any differently now. Draco is… Draco is everything. And I know that there's a possibility of him going back to the way he was, but I'm hoping that what I've got with him now will overcome all of that. You know? You two, of all people, know how it is to fall for someone you didn't expect to fall for. Look at you, together against all odds. I just want it to be like that with me and Draco."

Hermione looked like she was about to cry. "Oh Harry," she murmured.

"Mate," Ron added softly.

"What?" Harry asked, feeling a bit of dread from the solemnity of their expressions.

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. "We overheard Snape telling Dumbledore about Draco's antidote potion on our way to the library to find you. He says that it's almost complete, and they're in testing phase. It'll only be a matter of time before they may be able to distribute it to Draco," she said.

Harry sat back without a word. He couldn't hear a thing but crashing thunder in his ears, like walls and walls of hope crumbling down in his mind. The potion was almost finished? That meant Draco was going to go back to normal. That meant Draco was going to remember absolutely everything again. He stared down at his lap, not wanting to believe it or imagine the way that it would be when he did. So what _if_ Draco got his memories back? Would it change anything between them? Surely, nothing would change between them, Draco had adamantly gone on multiple times that it wouldn't. But then, why was he getting the feeling that everything would?

"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione whispered. "But you know, maybe it's not going to be so bad. I mean, if you really feel all that about him, and he feels strongly for you, it could overcome all those years of, well—" she paused, and looked at Ron.

"What she's saying is, you've already gotten this far, mate," Ron picked up for her. "And he already has some of those previous memories, and he's still here despite them. Even if he does remember everything, it's not like it's going to change anything that's happened between you now, right? And from seeing what I've seen of you guys," Ron paused and blushed slightly, "I know that you'll be okay, no matter what happens."

Harry looked up at him, feeling a bit better. "You're right. Thanks," he said. Then he scratched his head. "But what exactly _have_ you seen, Ron?"

"Er, well, you're not as secretive as you think you are, Harry," Ron muttered.

Hermione smiled. "You should have really checked behind the bookcase before kissing him," she added.

"You were spying on me?" Harry asked, incredulously. Draco was right; he really should start being more discreet with the public affection. He could feel his face beginning to heat up at the thought of Ron and Hermione witnessing him nuzzling Draco's nose.

"Well, would you blame us? It's not like you were being particularly quiet! It's better that we found you instead of oh, say, Madam Pince!"

Harry nodded in agreement. "That's true."

His friends both smiled at him.

Harry grinned at them back, feeling a whole load lift from his shoulders now that he'd got everything out in the open with his best friends. Well, everything except… "You know what's curious, though," he remarked, with a slight frown, "Draco's been acting a little off lately. I mean, about his visions and all. We haven't talked about it for quite some time now."

Hermione tilted her head. "How long has it been?"

"I don't know. Two weeks? Maybe more…"

"But why would he be reluctant to talk to you about his visions?" Ron asked. "He's never had trouble telling you before."

"That's the trouble, I don't know," Harry replied. "He just got really defensive when I asked him about it. Said he didn't want to drag me into it more, but I don't think that's it. I think it's got to do with the memories, I mean, he's gotten into the pretty dark ones now. Last one he told me, he'd just gotten back to the Manor and he said that Voldemort had visited them. He also mentioned that he'd gotten a light sort of _punishment_—" Harry winced, "—for his failure to succeed in his mission. After that one, he hasn't gone into much detail of each vision."

Hermione looked pensive. "Maybe he really does want to spare you of some of the gory elements during his stay at the Manor," she suggested.

"I guess so," Harry shook his head. "I'm just… I can't help but be worried about him. I don't like that he's bottling everything up and hiding it from me. I'm here and I want to help him, you know? But it's so hard when he's always pushing me away."

Ron shrugged. "Well, you know Malfoy, mate. He's never been all that pleasant to deal with when it comes to getting what he wants. I reckon that you should just give him some space on that one."

"I have to agree with Ron there," Hermione added. "You shouldn't push him. Besides, if he does receive the potion soon, then he won't have to go through the visions anymore. That would be one upside to his cure, wouldn't it?"

Harry sighed. "I suppose," he said, leaning back again. Then he let out a bitter sort of laugh. "You know what's ironic? I've been telling myself throughout this whole thing that I was doing this to help Draco get better, and now that the time has come for it to actually happen, I don't want it to. It's rather twisted of me, really. I guess that by helping him, I was actually setting myself up for this by getting close to him in the process. You were right, Hermione."

She smiled sadly and patted his shoulder. "One of the rare times that I wish I wasn't, Harry," she answered, earnestly.

Harry rubbed his forehead in a resigned manner and closed his eyes. It was one of those moments when he knew that he was supposed to be doing something right, except to him, it felt all wrong. He was always fighting this internal battle, doing what is _right _versus doing what he _wanted _to_. _And somehow, he knew that he would do the right thing every time, because that's just the way he was. He just wished, for once, that he could do something he wanted just because he wanted to. That just once, what he _wanted_ and what was _right_ of him to do would be the same thing. Was that really too much to ask for?

"I'm going to go back up to the dorm for a rest," he murmured, wanting to get a bit of alone time before dinner.

Ron made a small noise and stopped him with a hand. "I wouldn't go there, mate."

Harry looked at him in confusion.

"… There's a sock."

Harry groaned and rolled his eyes, standing up anyways. Trust Seamus and Dean to ruin his alone time with _their_ alone time. "Then I'm going for a walk," he declared. He started towards the portrait hole without any idea where he was going to go, knowing that his feet would probably lead him somewhere, if not anywhere.

Both his friends nodded, and Hermione called after him.

"We'll see you at dinner, won't we, Harry?"

Harry turned around and hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "Yes," he replied, and their worried faces smoothed out in relief that he wasn't going to hole himself up and wallow. Though Harry supposed that he would probably do a bit of that, anyways.

He wandered throughout the corridors aimlessly, not really wanting to find anything, not really wanting to be found. He supposed that he could go to Draco, but the boy was probably off with Zabini or Parkinson as he didn't think they'd see each other until dinnertime. Harry was fine being alone, anyhow. He was used to it. Though recently he'd been with Draco much of the time, he'd gone almost his whole life dealing with things alone, and in a way, it suited him.

Harry walked by the greenhouse outside, not expecting anyone to be around. But to his surprise he wasn't alone, and as he rounded the corner, he almost collided headfirst into Neville. The boy was carrying some sort of plant in his arms, and he looked stunned and a bit amused to see Harry.

"Oi, careful there, Harry. What brings you here today?"

Harry brushed himself off, making sure that he didn't get anything on himself from the plant, which looked questionable. "Just taking a walk," he replied, simply.

"Oh? Is Malfoy around?"

"No, why?"

Neville shifted the plant on his arm and shrugged. "Dunno. You're just always with him, is all. You know, whenever I need to find you, I'll just ask someone, 'have you seen Malfoy?' and if for some reason I needed to find him, I'd say, 'have you seen Harry?', and then I'd know exactly where you are. It's kind of sweet," he chuckled.

Harry smiled back. He knew that most people these days had gotten used to the fact that he and Draco were very close now, even though some still thought that it was strange that they were even civil towards one another. Harry couldn't blame them though, after watching him and Draco fight all these years, it must seem quite unnatural to most of the school's population to see the two of them gallivanting down the halls together. But all in all, he thought that everybody had taken it rather well. He didn't know if it would be the same to say about their current relationship, though.

"Yeah. Where are you off to with that plant?" he questioned, not really caring all that much anyways, but it seemed like the polite thing to ask.

Neville looked down at it, almost lovingly. "Just bringing it out for a bit of fresh air. It needs proper sunlight, you know."

Harry chuckled. "I didn't know that. How very interesting," he remarked, with a bit of sarcasm.

"Yeah, I bet you're so interested, you liar. Why don't you go off and find something that_ does_ interest you, like Malfoy, perhaps," Neville countered, one eyebrow raised playfully.

Harry shook his head with a laugh. "Maybe I will," he said, walking away, "see you around, Nev!"

He smiled again as he watched Neville handle the plant from a distance now, feeling slightly better after his brief conversation with the cheery Gryffindor. Neville always seemed to be able to lift his spirits, and he was sort of glad that he almost collided with him. But when Harry walked back into the castle, still smiling a bit, he almost ran into Snape walking in the other direction and his smile slipped off his face immediately.

The man scowled at him and brushed invisible dirt from his unblemished ebony robes. "Watch yourself, Potter. I may have to take off points for your utter lack of grace."

"Sorry Professor," Harry grumbled, not really wanting to cost his House any more points than he already lost them almost daily in Potions class. Besides, he honestly didn't want to spend another second around the man. He started to turn away, but Snape blocked his way with his seemingly never-ending cloak.

"Wait. Do you still have that vial, Potter?"

"What vial, sir?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "The vial that I gave you for Mr. Malfoy's potion. Do you still own it?"

Harry's hand immediately flew to his pocket and he clutched the small, glass object in his fist.

"Yes," he answered, quietly.

"Good," Snape said shortly, with a slight nod. "That is all." He swept away in a billowing, dark cloud of cloth, leaving Harry feeling quite dejected and in much lower spirits than before.

Harry sighed, still gripping the vial in his pocket. After a while, he slowly took it out and inspected it, feeling the distinct sensations of dread and sadness go through him again as he rolled it around in his palm. This vial would soon hold the contents of which would bring back Draco's memory, surely. It would bring back all the terrible times. It would bring back Draco's hatred for Harry. But most of all, it would bring back complete loneliness. And although he'd known loneliness before, Harry wasn't quite so sure he'd be able to handle it again, though it was true that he'd gotten used to it and that it even suited him at times. Because then, he had known that Draco could be there with him too, if he so chose. Then, Draco would still be in his life even if he wasn't around physically.

When that vial was filled with that potion, it would take Draco away and he'd be gone for good: mentally, physically, everything. And Harry could not ask for him when he was alone. He'd just be _alone_. And that was what scared him the most.

**Author's Note: Ominous, no? Well, I tried. So as you can see, we're starting to jump into the real stuff here, so I hope you're ready. Because I'm not. **

**Anyways, for the topic. Now, I understand that all of you are obviously some sort of Harry Potter fan in some sort of form. So tell me, how has Harry Potter affected YOUR life? What has it brought for you?**

**Honestly, for me, it's been eye-opening. The symbolisms, the character analysis, the raw emotion that comes from it, it's astounding. Not only is it such a cleverly done, intricate world, it makes me believe that I'm actually in it. You know? Its magic makes me believe that_ I'm_ magic, that I can do anything because I believe in its central theme: love. Because love, it's the most powerful thing out there. Love conquers war and death and betrayal and _especially_ evil. Love has many definitions. Love is redemption; love is allowing yourself to be forgiven, it's both survival and sacrifice. **

**Harry Potter has taught me to never lose hope, that even when you've lost everything, you must carry on because there's _always_ something worth fighting for. People who think that Harry Potter is just a children's story, well, I feel sorry for them. It has created hope for so many of us; it has shaped our society and a lot of the way that I, personally, have evolved. It's even given me this creative outlet, here, and for that, I am eternally grateful. **

**I'm going to stop rambling now, though I could write an entire novel on my feelings for this series. Harry Potter will never die, and it will never end. Our stories will make sure of it. Thank you guys so much for reading, and I hope that you've enjoyed! **


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: Harry Potter really does mean the world to so many of us, and I'm incredibly glad that we've had the opportunity to share it like this. It's given us so much, and I was touched to hear many of your responses about how Harry Potter affected you. Thank you for sharing! Anyways, I'm just going to apologize for being a bit late with this and leaving you with that. But during my absence I wasn't totally unproductive, I did write a little one-shot (yes, I am advertising blatantly, I know)**

Chapter 15

"Hey stranger," Draco greeted, looking up at Blaise when the boy sat down next to him at dinner. "Haven't seen you in a while. Where have you been off to lately?"

Blaise shrugged noncommittally, causing Draco to raise one eyebrow. He picked up his fork and started piling food onto his plate. "Been busy," he replied, not making eye contact. Curious.

Draco tilted his head. "I can see right through you, you know. With all that blabbering you do about Slytherin morals this and Slytherin cleverness that, you certainly stink at lying," he remarked.

Blaise looked up and gave him a tiny smirk. "Don't sass me, Draco dear," he replied, smoothly. "I've been off with Pansy, is that a crime?"

"Liar. Pansy was with me all day."

Blaise sighed and glanced up quickly at the Gryffindor table before looking away and taking a huge bite of food. Draco didn't miss that look. He frowned, peering over at the Gryffindor table with interest. No, there was nothing very spectacular about it this evening, but it usually wasn't any other time, either. Well, it wasn't interesting to Draco, at least, unless Harry was sitting where Draco could clearly spot him. And said Harry wasn't there at the moment, even though most of his little friends were. That was a bit strange.

Draco scanned the Gryffindors nonchalantly, letting his gaze roam over each one at an unhurried pace. He watched as Ron shoveled mouthfuls of what looked like bread into his mouth and as Hermione glared, her brows furrowed and her lips moving quickly to lecture the redhead. Draco continued down the table to where Neville was sitting quietly on his own, a neglected dinner plate replaced by a text on Herbology.

Then there was Ginny a little ways away from the Neville, looking down at her plate with a hint of a smile playing on her lips. Draco hesitated, looking back at Blaise, and then at her again. Yes, that was definitely the direction that Blaise had been looking in, and Ginny seemed no less guilty of seeing that look than Draco was.

"Why were you just exchanging glances with Ginny Weasley?" Draco blurted out suddenly, making his friend snap away from his food.

Blaise looked panicked. "Um, I wasn't."

"Yes, you were!" He narrowed his eyes, suddenly feeling protective for no reason he could pinpoint. "Do _you_ have a thing with _my_ boyfriend's ex-girlfriend?"

"As if!" Blaise exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "That is truly revolting. I have _standards_, you know."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you looking at her like that?" he demanded.

Blaise sighed and turned back to the Gryffindor table, and Draco's eyes followed his gaze. Ginny was glancing up at Blaise again, but now her lovely almond eyes were narrowed. Her mouth curved up in that same smile, and Draco suddenly noticed that it was a bit too mischievous to be anything romantic. Then Ginny's eyes flicked over towards the Ravenclaw table, back to Blaise, and then at her own plate, as if nothing had just occurred.

"Bloody hell," Blaise muttered, now glaring at the table, an uncharacteristic flush on his face.

"What was _that _all about?" Draco asked, now confused as ever. What the hell?

His friend sighed in irritation. "Well, I might as well just tell you. Ginny Weasley is blackmailing me," he declared.

Draco almost spit out the mouthful of pumpkin juice he'd just downed.

"Excuse me?"

"She is. Well, I'm blackmailing her too, so I guess it's mutual. But I'm a Slytherin; it's expected of me! She's the goddamn _princess _of Gryffindor, but she's_ completely_ mental, I tell you!"

Draco shook his head. Princess of Gryffindor, his arse. "Wait, wait. Seriously, what are you talking about right now?"

Blaise looked around and lowered his voice, leaning in to whisper in Draco's ear. "If I tell you, you have to promise not to laugh, all right?"

"I'm not promising anything. You've had your fair share of laughs at me."

"I won't tell you, then."

"Fine, fine. I won't bloody laugh. Just tell me."

Blaise took a deep breath. He actually looked sort of nervous, which was a first for Draco to see. The other boy was always so calm and collected.

"Well, Ginny… she sort of has a crush on someone…" he revealed quietly. Draco coughed in surprise, but Blaise ignored him and went on.

"I know this because a couple of weeks ago I was…" he blushed again, "_watching _the girl I fancy, and Weasley caught me. But only because _she_ was watching the boy she fancied. The objects of our affections were sitting together, you see. So anyways, we caught each other and started squabbling, you know, as rival Houses do, but then she suggested that we could keep each other's secret if the other doesn't tell. I thought, why not, she's a Gryffindor and she wouldn't even dare to think about breaking a promise. But damn, I was wrong. She's a crafty one, I tell you, and really feisty, it's a wonder she wasn't sorted into Slytherin. Now I'm going through hell while that little redheaded _bint _plays her incessant mind games in some crazy attempt to give me heart compulsions."

Draco started gaping. Well, _that_ wasn't what he had expected. He wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing, other than relieved to discover that the girl truly didn't have any designs on his boyfriend anymore. Although it didn't really matter since Harry was clearly _his_, but it was still nice to know.

"Um… So who _does_ she fancy?" he asked. Personally, he thought that anyone who wasn't Harry would be a major downgrade, but hey, he wasn't protesting if she were to be interested in someone else. And besides, he was genuinely curious, as nothing else interesting was going on at the moment.

Blaise smirked. "Longbottom," he revealed, somewhat smugly.

Draco raised his eyebrows and glanced over at the Gryffindor table again, now noticing that Ginny _was_ quite close to where Neville was seated. They weren't talking, and Neville seemed quite immersed in his book, but it was evident that she had chosen that seat for a reason. Draco had to give Ginny credit for her taste in guys though, because if anyone was going to step into Harry's place, Neville would probably be the next best thing. He wasn't a terrible chap at all, at least as far as the Gryffindors went. Draco shook his head and looked back at Blaise.

"And what about you, may I ask? Who were _you_ watching?"

Blaise scowled.

"Come on, you already made me promise I wouldn't laugh," Draco urged.

"But you will."

"No I won't."

"Fine," Blaise looked around again to make sure nobody was listening. "It's Luna Lovegood," he muttered.

Draco snorted, quite loudly.

"Shut up!" Blaise insisted angrily. Then he hit Draco's shoulder with a rough shove. "You said that you wouldn't laugh!"

"Sorry," Draco tried to contain his smile, but it was in vain. "But it's… and you're just so… and she's _really_…"

"Yeah, I _know_," Blaise grumbled, staring down at his fingers moodily. "But it's not something that I can control. She's… charming and sort of lovely... I can't explain it. I thought that _you _of all people might understand how that feels," he pointed out.

Draco stopped laughing internally, now feeling a bit of sympathy for his friend. It was true; he did understand how it felt to feel like his emotions were out of control. Falling for Harry was one thing that he couldn't have helped no matter what he did, and that sort of thing was just inevitable. But he didn't see how this was much of a dilemma for Blaise, as he had no doubt in his mind that the dark-haired Slytherin could charm the pants off of anything that _breathed._ Literally. And besides, everything worked out wonderfully for Draco and Harry, for the most part, and if they could do it Blaise definitely could as well. Draco patted him on the shoulder.

"I do understand," he offered, sincerely. "And I'm sorry that I laughed."

Blaise cracked a small smile, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I know you are. I probably would have laughed too if it were you," he admitted.

"You_ did_ laugh," Draco reminded him.

Blaise waved him off.

Draco rolled his eyes and pushed his plate away before getting up and snatching his bag off of the seat next to him. He had noticed that Harry had never shown up to dinner and figured that the boy had stayed in his dorm, obviously bothered by something or another. It was safe to say that it wasn't a rare occurrence, so Draco wasn't too worried about something being _terribly_ wrong. But still, as Harry's boyfriend, it was Draco's job to find out what the problem was and fix it. He nodded at Blaise, who nodded back, and started for the doors.

It took no time at all for Draco to climb up the stairs to the Gryffindor Tower and mumble the password quickly (something that he always kept handy, even when it changed every once in a blue moon), and soon he was standing in an empty common room. The scene was rather familiar to him now, as he visited Harry regularly, and he knew his way up to the boys' dormitories and into Harry's without batting an eye. Immediately upon arrival Draco found that Harry's bed curtains were pulled shut, and he quietly went up to them and tapped them with the tip of his wand.

"Harry? Are you in there?"

"Draco?" The curtains were pulled back, and Harry was sitting on his bed, fully clothed and appearing not to have been sleeping at all. "Why aren't you at dinner?"

"Why aren't _you_?" Draco countered, and Harry looked down at his lap.

"Wasn't hungry," he muttered.

Draco climbed up onto the bed without needing to ask, gently closing the curtains around them and enveloping them in semi-darkness. He waited for a few moments before saying anything.

"What's wrong? You've been like this for a couple of days now and I've been patiently waiting for you to say something, but you haven't. Aren't you going to tell me what's bothering you?"

Draco felt Harry shift around in the dark, presumably lying back on his pillow. Draco scooted over and leaned back as well, letting his arm press up against Harry's comfortably.

"Nothing's bothering me, Draco. I'm just tired, that's all," Harry murmured, resting his head on Draco's shoulder but not applying too much pressure.

Draco sighed. Now, if Blaise was a bad liar, Harry was a terrible one. Draco realised that he had quite a knack for figuring out that sort of thing early on, and was grateful for it. Because there was no way that he was going to let Harry get away with bottling up his feelings. _Even if I'm bottling up my own from him, _Draco thought, almost firmly, to himself.

"Seriously. Harry, I know you. Don't lie to me."

Harry shifted around again, and a few moments later the dark atmosphere was lit up by a gentle glow from the tip of Harry's wand. When Draco peered at Harry's face in the shadows, he saw that the Gryffindor had dark purple bruises under those lovely green eyes that were now watching Draco with a certain type of sadness. A type of sadness that scared him a bit. He frowned and took Harry's hand.

"I'm just worried," Harry confessed quietly. "About when you change back—"

"Who says I'm changing back?" Draco asked, interrupting him. "Who says that I _want _to change back?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. Do you?'

Draco frowned. He honestly didn't know if he did. Because obviously if he did, then he would remember everything about his life and wouldn't have to go through those terrible, aching flashbacks anymore. But then again, he would have those flashbacks as permanent memories anyway and that was just as bad. Either way, he couldn't win.

"I… I'm not sure. I think I'll know when it happens, won't I? Thankfully, I'll probably have a lot of time to think about it," Draco replied honestly.

Draco noticed that Harry bit his lip and looked away for a moment, and he had to wonder if the boy somehow knew something that he didn't. But he didn't want to ask, the look on Harry's face made him hesitant to even say anything at all.

"I just want to know that you're still the same Draco deep inside. That you're the same Draco and you have feelings for me as the real you and not just this wonderful version of you who actually smiles and calls me by my first name and showers me with kisses instead of hexes," Harry murmured.

Draco frowned. "You know I can't guarantee that," he whispered, truly sorry that he couldn't.

"I know," Harry nodded. "That's what worries me."

Draco leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. Harry's eyes slid shut as if he were in slight pain but he did not move as Draco continued to kiss him, now trailing down his face and reaching his mouth.

"But I _can_ swear to you," he promised, in between placing a kiss or two on Harry's lips, "that I am here and I am yours. Right now. Isn't that enough?"

"Wish it was."

Draco barely caught the whispered words through slightly parted lips, and he took the quiet opportunity to rest his head on Harry's chest. He didn't know what to feel right now but his head was spinning with a range of mixed emotions. Sadness; because this was a mess that he couldn't fix for Harry. Tenderness; because that was just the way that Harry always made him feel.

And… and something else. Something that Draco had been itching to say for a few weeks now, but hadn't had the guts to actually go for it. Something that made his insides squirm and flutter and dance and glow whenever Harry so much as even looked at him. But if he was too afraid to think it to himself, there was no way that he could express it to Harry.

It could have been an hour, or maybe two or three that they lay there together, not speaking but not feeling uncomfortable either. Draco could stay with Harry here forever without saying a word and he'd be okay. He'd be more than okay, really. But the minutes and the hours passed and Draco knew that it was getting late, judging by the lessened amount of noise he heard wafting up from the common room below. If he were going to head back to Slytherin for the night, now would be the time to leave. He finally moved his head from Harry's chest and looked up at the boy.

To his surprise, Harry was already looking back at him. He had a wistful sort of smile on his face. "Stay with me tonight?" he asked softly, breaking the endless period of silence with the sound of his lovely, somewhat cracked voice.

"Of course," Draco replied, and Harry's lips curved up into that real smile that Draco had been aching to see all night. He immediately returned the gesture and wrapped his arms around Harry's torso.

"I have to get dressed for bed," Harry suddenly protested, and Draco snorted a little.

"More like undressed," he chuckled slyly, letting his hands tug at the corners of Harry's collared shirt as a suggestion. Harry gave Draco a tight little grin, so Draco rolled his eyes. "I know, I know, I'm not trying to seduce you right now or anything. But you could really sleep in just pants, you know. It's actually quite liberating."

"Aw, damn," Harry teased. "And I was getting all seduced, too. Too bad you weren't trying or anything because we might've had a little fun."

Draco gave him an exasperated look and Harry ducked, laughing now. His green eyes looked brighter than they had since before Draco had first come in, and Draco was glad that he could be the one to make Harry's mood turn around like that. Because the boy deserved to be happy, he really did.

He rolled his eyes again and sat up, shrugging off his school robes and unbuttoning his shirt. Harry was watching, his eyebrows slightly raised, and Draco smirked a bit at him.

"Are you just going to sit there and ogle me? Because I thought that we were getting ready for bed."

Now it was Harry's turn to roll his eyes as he sat up too, mimicking Draco's actions and shedding his own clothing. Soon enough, both boys were clad in green-and-red pants (Draco's were the red ones, to his slight embarrassment) and had snuggled under the covers, all lights dimmed and curtains tightly shut.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's waist and rested his chin on his shoulder and Draco smiled a bit, pressing his slightly cooler skin back into Harry's warm, lovely chest. He always loved the feeling of sleeping in the same bed as Harry, because the other boy was always so warm and comfortable and affectionate. Draco was sure that this was something that his body was not quite used to, as it had been a bit of a shock at first, but now he couldn't ask for anything better.

He loved it. He loved sleeping here and comforting Harry and teasing him and feeling the tickle of his hair against his neck. He loved spending every day with him, sharing stories and secrets and kisses and things that he couldn't share with anybody else. But most of all, he loved… he _loved_…

Well, he loved it anyways.

**~x~**

Harry woke with a start; hearing the slight sounds of muffled sobs and feeling a warm presence trembling in his arms. He blindly reached out to his bed stand and shoved his glasses on his nose, glancing around the bed area, but the noises and trembling had stopped. There was nothing but darkness, and it was clear that it was still nighttime and nobody was awake. He looked down at Draco, who lay with his back towards Harry, and frowned. Maybe he had just imagined it in his head.

Harry leaned back down and carefully placed his arms around Draco's torso, trying not to wake up the boy with the contact. But as soon as he touched his skin, the other boy made a soft, whimpering noise, and his body began to shake.

"No," Draco sleep-choked; startling Harry so badly that he immediately whipped his hands away from him. The sleeping blond sounded desperate, almost pained, as he rolled over, exposing his scrunched up face to Harry. "No!" he moaned again, louder and even more miserably.

Draco's hands were fisted close to his chest to protect himself, and Harry noticed that his knuckles were almost pure white and so tightly clenched as if he were holding on to dear life. At that point, Harry couldn't just watch anymore. He started to shake Draco's shoulder.

"Draco," he whispered, trying to wake him. "Draco, it's me."

Draco let out another sob in response, and Harry shook his shoulder harder. He was starting to get a bit desperate. "Please wake up, Draco, please," he begged, hating the way that the Slytherin's face clearly reflected his nightmarish grief.

"It can't be," Draco suddenly murmured, making Harry stop short in his shoving and stare at him. Draco had ceased his shaking and sobbing, but his expression was still limitless. "Not…you, please…"

Harry gazed at his boyfriend's face for a bit longer, brushing a few strands of hair away from his slightly damp forehead with a defeated sigh. Draco was having nightmares again. The same nightmares that had been making him so nervous for these past few weeks, the ones that he had refused to talk about with Harry. Why he wouldn't, well, that was a mystery to Harry. He wanted to help Draco, he truly did, but he couldn't do anything if the boy kept shutting him out.

It was tearing him apart inside, having to know that Draco was suffering and just taking it, like he thought that he deserved it or something terrible. Harry didn't particularly know if that was the reason why Draco was doing this, but if it was… there was no way that Harry would let it continue. Not in a million years. Draco was too important to him, so important that Harry could not rest until Draco was entirely happy again. Draco's happiness meant everything to him. It was time that he did something about this, and especially before Snape finished the potion, because then he might not get the chance to do anything at all.

Draco had finally stopped moving and mumbling and was now lying still and almost emotionless, his breathing slowly going back to normal. Harry shook him again, a little.

"Draco?"

The blond stirred, and his eyes fluttered a bit. Harry touched his arm.

"You awake?"

Draco squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again, and Harry saw a flash of panic mixed in with the grey before they met Harry's gaze and softened. As if in relief and also a bit of sadness.

"Harry?"

"Yes, I'm here," Harry murmured, lacing his fingers through the other boy's hand.

Draco looked calmed for a moment, but then his brow furrowed and his eyes turned panicked again. "Why are you here?"

"Um, this is my—"

"No," Draco shook his head. "I mean, why are you here? With me."

"Draco, we've gone over this so many times, you know how I feel—"

"It hasn't been enough! I still don't _understand!_" The Slytherin exclaimed, his voice rising dangerously in pitch.

The tone matched his distressed gaze and Harry was starting to think that maybe the boy had gone crazy. But then he saw the trace of worry and insecurity laced in between those words and in the way that Draco looked at him, the way his shoulders drooped and his lips trembled and his eyes shone. He was a wreck; he was falling apart. And he was somehow asking Harry to fix him.

"What don't you understand?" Harry asked quietly, his tone verging on clinical.

Draco's expression became more strained. "I'm a terrible, revolting person," he began. "I'm horrible and arrogant and stupid and lost and _weak_. I've made so many more mistakes than I can count. I turned away every opportunity I've ever had to redeem myself."

Harry cringed, not wishing to hear Draco criticise himself any longer. "You're not—"

"I am. I know that I am, I've seen it, and I loathe myself for all of it. So Harry, I just need to understand," his grey eyes were a mixture of pleading and fear, "why _are _you here?"

Harry heard the question again, but this time, it was not vague or unclear. The message that Draco was trying to send across was clear as day, and it was disturbing the hell out of him. Where had this come from? He knew that whatever Draco had seen in his nightmare vision had triggered this, and he needed to know what it was so that he could appropriately stop it. And that look on Draco's face was killing him. He grabbed his wand and threw up a quick Silencing charm around his bed as to not wake up his roommates.

"What did you see tonight?" he asked slowly.

Draco's desperate, questioning gaze immediately turned hard. He turned away. "Now is not the time for that, Harry." He sounded impatient.

"Draco, I know that those visions are causing this behaviour, just please let me help you—"

"No!" Draco screeched, and Harry winced a little. "Stop it, just stop it for once! Damn it, Harry, I have to know why you're with me, I have to know _why_ you made this horrible, _horrible_ mistake—"

"I haven't made a mistake! What do I have to say to get that through your thick skull?"

"I'm not thick," Draco said suddenly, glancing off to the side. "I'm the opposite of thick. I'm made of glass. When he throws me on the ground and hexes me, I shatter. And when he beats me until I am unconscious, I spread across the floor as little bits and pieces of piercing blades. And you step on that floor," his eyes glistened, and Harry was entirely confused, "and you fall, and you get cuts all over you. And you hurt. And it's my fault."

Harry frowned. "What are you talking about, Draco? What's glass got to do with anything?"

"I'm just saying that I'm not good for you."

"What?"

"I've hurt you," Draco said, quietly. "I dragged you into this. And I meant to."

"Draco, you know what I've done to you was just as—"

"I was going to turn you in!" Draco interrupted him loudly, his voice drifting into that pitch again. "I was going to turn you in to _him_ and I was going to get you killed! _Murdered!_"

Harry was hushed as he heard the quiet, choked sniffles coming from the blond. Without a full explanation, he could already tell that the vision had been the one from the Manor, that night that he, Ron, and Hermione had barely escaped from Voldemort's clutches. He remembered Draco being called in to identify the three of them, and specifically Harry. He remembered the way that the trembling boy had stared into his eyes, intense and silent, not giving anything away. And he _distinctly_ remembered the long pause.

"But you didn't," he finally spoke, causing Draco to look up at him with wet, miserable eyes.

"But I—"

"No, listen to me. I know what you've done in the past, perhaps better than you do. I know that your intentions were less than friendly and I know that we were on opposite sides of the war. But Draco, that's the way that it was, and the way that it had to be. Because I would not be the person that I am now without you being the person that you were then, and vice versa. You are a part of me, good and bad, happy and sad. I'm not going to say that you didn't hurt me or that I didn't hurt you. Because we did, we hurt each other, and we made each other yell and scream and lose our tempers. But in the end, we're here, and we're okay. Doesn't that show you something? Doesn't that show you that despite all that has happened, that maybe we're worth it?"

Draco shook his head. "I just wish that I had been different," he whispered.

"I don't," Harry replied, letting one of his hands rest on Draco's knee. "You were, and are, a hundred percent Draco Malfoy. And I wouldn't want you any other way."

Draco smiled a bit, but Harry could still see the troubled haze in his eyes. He sighed, knowing that there was nothing that he could do about it, at least for now. He'd need to get some help with this if he was really going to do this right. He had to help Draco stop this mad suffering. He _had_ to, or he would go mad, too.

"You know what's funny?" Draco asked, after a while.

"What?"

"If I could go back and tell myself, at that moment, that I was going to be here in your arms, that I was going to feel the way that I do about you now… I might've actually believed it," he murmured, a strange, nostalgic look in his eye.

Before Harry could ask what he could possibly mean by that the blond boy turned away, taking Harry's limp arms and wrapping them around his own waist, then dropping his head back down on the pillow with a soft plop. Harry sighed and let him, knowing that he wouldn't get a proper response now even if he tried. He rested his head on Draco's shoulder absently, breathing in the familiar scent of silvery strands and observing the way that his pale skin was almost luminous in the dark.

And it was then that he vowed that he would not lose this beautiful, broken boy that lay in his arms. No matter how many twisted visions or daunting potions that came across them, he would not lose Draco. Because he couldn't let go, they needed each other, always.

_Or at least,_ Harry thought, snuggling into his shoulder, _I do._

**~x~**

"I'm just… I'm tired of seeing him like this, you know?" Harry whispered, letting his head lean closer to Hermione's as they sat together at a quiet table in the library.

Okay, so maybe Hermione wasn't the most ideal person to speak to this sort of thing about. But he needed _someone_ to express his concerns to, and Ron was already at Quidditch practice. (Where Harry should be himself, no doubt, except he had a neglected Charms essay to write.)

He had already predicted Hermione's stern look as she gazed at him over the top of her quill. "Harry, didn't I tell you that you needed to stay out of this? If Draco says that he can handle it himself, let him. Quit harping!"

Harry thought it was quite ironic that Hermione was telling _him_ to stop harping. Because really, wasn't that _her_ thing? He was about to open his mouth and say so, but one look at her expression told him that he should refrain. He glared at her a bit instead.

"These aren't just some scary images, Hermione, these are truly horrifying, traumatising events because they are _supposed_ to be his reality! He's trying to be brave about it or I don't know,_ smart_, but the nightmares are just getting worse. Sooner or later he's going to have a complete meltdown and it'll be all your fault for not letting me help him!" He folded his arms across his chest childishly, knowing that it wasn't Hermione's fault at all. He really only wanted someone to blame.

She sighed and put down her quill at his gesture. "If he's getting worse, isn't it good enough that he's going to receive the potion from Snape soon?" Harry made a face, and she continued. "You know that it will most likely be much more effective than whatever deluded scheme that you've managed to scrounge up. Come on, Harry, be logical."

Harry scowled. He hated it when Hermione told him to 'be logical'. What did that even mean? He wasn't logical; he was a _Gryffindor_, for Merlin's sake!

"Even if that potion is coming soon, it still doesn't help the nightmares that he's having _now._ Really, do you even know me at all? I'm not just going to sit back and do nothing, Hermione."

Hermione pursed her lips and tilted her head in mock interest. "Then what _are_ you going to do? I'm intrigued."

"Well… I don't know. But when I do know, it's going to go damn good, you just wait!"

"Damn _well_, Harry, it's damn _well_," she corrected him. He shot her a dark look, and she chuckled. "Sorry."

"Whatever," Harry glanced around anxiously. "I haven't seen him since our last class. Where do you reckon he's gone?"

"Probably off doing his work, which by the way, you should be doing right now. Flitwick will be positively livid if you don't finish that essay. You're already two days late with it."

Harry waved her off. "Flitwick can go jump off the Astronomy Tower," he replied absently, not caring that he'd probably get a lecture for that comment.

Surprisingly, Hermione only sighed. "You know, this isn't your problem to solve," she remarked. "It's his. There's nothing you can do about it if he doesn't want you to, though honestly, I don't believe that he knows what to do either. And if his nightmares are getting worse like you said, I highly doubt that he can live like this much longer."

Harry bit his lip. "What are you saying?"

"What I've been saying from the start. Someone's going to get hurt, Harry, it can't be helped. It's just a matter of whether it's going to be you or Draco," she said, softly.

Harry wanted to ignore that fact even though he knew what Hermione had said wasn't wrong. She had been telling him this ever since he'd started developing feelings for Draco but he'd never listened to her, and now he was wondering if he had made a mistake by not doing so. He liked to imagine that in a perfect world, he and Draco would get to be together, completely themselves, without obstacles like concussions and guilt and potions and secrets blocking their way.

But no matter how much he wished for it, he knew that something like that could never happen between him and Draco. They would never be able to escape the never-ending stream of problems that always seemed to head their way. They were destined to be together, Harry and Draco, but they were also destined to fail. _And yet,_ Harry mused, _here we are._

"I'm sorry for being rather blunt about this, Harry, but it's just the way it is," Hermione tried again in earnest.

"I know," he sighed, running a hand through his unruly locks. "I'm just sort of hoping that once he takes the potion and remembers everything, we can just continue on the way that we have been. I mean, I know that he might be less… _sweet_ than he is now, but then again, that's the Draco that I've always been interested in. He's always been able to push my buttons, you know? I just hadn't realised that I had been looking at it in the wrong way for all these years."

Hermione smiled a little. "I completely understand that, I do."

Harry immediately thought of her and Ron and smiled back, knowing that she truly did understand. Ron and Hermione's relationship never failed to mystify Harry in its endurance, with all the bickering and lecturing and stubborn silent glare-offs that occurred between the two.

And he knew that they would always be like that, but in some small crevice of his mind, he also knew that they were going to make it—with all the happiness and the moodiness and the love that came with it. Because that's what Ron and Hermione, and Harry, did. They survived. They endured. And to Harry, Draco was no exception.

He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze across the table. "I love you Hermione, I really do. You and Ron both."

"And you know that we love you too, Harry."

Harry shot her another grin and she shook her head, picking her quill up again to continue her notes. He sighed, glancing around. Writing an essay was not particularly high on his list of things he wanted to do right now. Then he noticed Ginny standing over by a nearby bookcase and brightened, finding his out.

"Ginny!" He called, and the girl looked over at him.

"Oh, hey, Harry! Hermione," Ginny greeted, walking over to their table and sitting down with a small smile. "What are you up to?"

Hermione glared at Harry, clearly seeing right through his plan. "Well, I'm updating my notes for Potions, and _Harry _is supposed to be writing his overdue Charms essay," she sniffed.

Ginny raised an eyebrow at Harry, and he shrugged. "It's not that important. What are you doing in the library?"

The redheaded girl suddenly blushed and chewed on her lip. "Um, just looking at books. You know."

Harry studied her face, which was still heated even though she was trying to act like it wasn't. He glanced over at Hermione for help, but she was paying no attention to either of them, and so he went back to Ginny. She was being awfully antsy for someone who was just looking at _books._Then he remembered one of his 'daily chats' with Draco (the Slytherin refused to call it gossiping, he claimed that it sounded poncy) today in Potions and peered at Ginny a bit closer. Huh. Well, there was only one way to find out.

"Is Neville around here?" He twisted in his seat and pretended to search the area for the boy. "I might want to ask him about something I'm putting in my essay."

Hermione looked up now with one eyebrow raised. "You're going to ask _Neville_ about _Charms_?" she asked, a bit incredulously.

"Yeah," he replied, turning to give Ginny an intent look. "He's a rather intelligent bloke, isn't he, Gin?" Her cheeks were blazing. Hermione snorted and went back to her notes.

Then Ginny cleared her throat.

"Right. He's over there anyways," she answered quietly, jerking her head towards an area not too far from the bookcase of which she had been standing at earlier. Neville was indeed sitting there, hunched over a rather large set of books and a few sheets of parchment. Harry resisted the urge to pull a Draco-smirk.

"Thanks. I knew that you could find him for me," he remarked cheerfully.

She narrowed her eyes at him in understanding. "How long?"

"I should ask the same of you."

"Who?"

"I have my sources."

"Damn it!" Ginny looked exasperated. "It's not like _I_ was this annoying to _you_ about Draco!"

"Excuse me, but Draco and I aren't—" Harry trailed off, and judging by the furious glint in her eye, he knew that she saw right through him.

"Oh shut_ up_ Harry, everybody knows! You're lucky that I didn't hex you the second I found out. I said that I would, didn't I? I can still do it, you know."

Harry cringed, knowing that he wouldn't want to be on the other end of Ginny's wrath and wand, which was a dangerous and horrifying combination in itself. He shook his head and looked at Hermione for help again, but she was just watching him in amusement, a tight smile on her lips. He sighed.

"Fine, I've only known for about a couple of hours. But I'm not going to tell you who told me," he answered stubbornly.

Ginny glared at him for a few more moments before she leaned back in her chair and rubbed her forehead. "All right, fine. Just don't tell him. I don't want to ruin our friendship," she muttered.

"Gin—"

"Save it, Harry. I don't want love advice from Mr. Malfoy-to-be," she teased now, causing Harry to roll his eyes.

"Shut up," he responded. "You're a little bitch sometimes."

"Harry!" Hermione scolded.

"Fine, fine, you're not a bitch," he grumbled, sticking his tongue out at a triumphant Ginny when Hermione wasn't looking. Then he glanced at the clock on the wall before starting to gather his things and stuff them into his bag. "Anyway, come on. It's almost dinnertime and I want to get there before Ron inhales the table."

The girls exchanged eye-rolls but nevertheless opted to join him on the way to the Great Hall. Hermione stood on his left and Ginny his right, but as they walked the girls chatted around him as if he weren't there. He kept his trap shut and attempted to tune them out, as he was used to their boring little conversations and didn't wish to be part of them anyways. Girls were such trivial creatures. He was glad that he had finally figured out that he didn't care for them as more than friends, as friendship with one was definitely enough of a responsibility in itself.

They arrived in the Hall relatively early and many of the students were just beginning to show up at their tables, but Ron and the rest of the Quidditch team had evidently not finished cleaning up after practice yet. Harry sat down in his usual seat and glanced over at Draco, who was just getting seated in his spot directly across from him, as well. They exchanged small smiles and silent promises of meeting up later, and then Harry had to look away before he started grinning like an idiot.

His gaze wandered to the front of the room and he noticed that although many professors were already in their seats, Snape seemed to be missing. _That's odd, _he thought. _Snape always likes to be early so that he can sit there and sneer at us when we come in._

His musings were interrupted when Ron dropped into his seat next to Harry, a giant grin on his face. "Practice was brilliant, mate," he exclaimed. "We've created a few new secret weapon moves for the next game. Bad luck you missed it."

Harry grimaced. "Hermione was trying to get me to finish my essay," he explained.

"Did you?"

Harry looked at him meaningfully.

"Got it," Ron laughed. "What essay? I've never heard of such an essay."

Harry laughed too, about to retort with something arguably witty, but there was a tap on his shoulder and he turned around to find a small first-year Slytherin gazing back at him.

"Um, can I help you?" he asked politely, not quite sure if the kid had gotten the right person.

"Professor Snape has asked me to bring you and Draco Malfoy to his laboratory immediately," the young boy squeaked self-importantly.

Harry felt his stomach plummet. He shot a few looks at Ron and Hermione, who were both staring at him with mixed expressions of concern and shock, before turning to nod at the Slytherin. He tried to put on a brave face despite the rock-heavy feeling inside him.

"Okay."

Harry climbed out of his seat, following the boy back to the Slytherin table to request the same of Draco. Draco's face turned an ashy colour as the first-year spoke to him, but he regained his composure quickly and stood up to join Harry. Both boys trailed after the first-year silently as they exited the Great Hall.

"What's going on?" Draco hissed, leaning in towards him as they walked.

"I think the potion is done," Harry whispered back, and Draco fell silent for a moment.

"Oh." Then he was quiet again.

They reached the dungeons much too quickly, and the first-year Slytherin led them straight to Snape's quarters before leaving them there, obviously eager to get back to dinner. Harry exchanged glances with Draco before knocking on the door tentatively. It swung open before his knuckles could touch the sleek, black surface more than twice.

Harry peered into the room, finding Snape with his back to them at one of his lab workstations, apparently in the middle of brewing something. The Potions Master gestured at them with one hand to come in but did not turn around. Draco had to give Harry a push to make him move and eventually they were both inside, the door shutting behind them with an ominous slam. Harry took a large gulp.

Finally, Snape whirled around, his face already twisted in that I-just-tasted-a-lemon scowl. "Evening, Mr. Malfoy, Potter," he greeted smoothly. "I hope you don't mind me interrupting your dinners."

"Not at all, sir," Draco responded, but Harry could only manage a small squeak.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You are possibly curious of my incentives in asking you here," he spoke, his words sounding more like a demand than a question.

"Yes."

Snape glanced at Harry coolly. "Do you still have the vial, Potter?"

Harry clenched his teeth. He wanted to say no, but he couldn't do that to Draco because he honestly didn't know how the boy felt about the potion. He very much regretted not talking to him about it earlier, knowing that he could have easily brought it up in many of their conversations. Now he would just have to assume. Harry pulled the small glass container out of his robes, where it had previously earned a permanent spot of residence.

"Here." He placed it on the lab counter from which Snape had been working on. Draco only stared at it.

Snape peered at the vial as well, and Harry waited for the dreaded moment when he'd announce that the potion was ready and that Draco was going to return back to normal. That Draco was going to regain all of his memories and all of his hatred for Harry. He steadied himself, taking small, deep breaths and trying not to shudder.

"Now Draco," Snape began, his tone considerably less harsh than it had been with Harry. "I wish to ask you a few questions before proceeding to inform you of recent events."

Recent events? Did he mean that the potion was finished or what? Harry tried not to blurt out his thoughts and turned to Draco for the answer. The blond nodded, and Snape continued.

"Are you currently having any troubles with your memories? Any problems that I should be aware of?"

Harry saw Draco hesitate before hanging his head in supposed shame for not mentioning it to the professor earlier. "The memories are becoming worse, more violent," he revealed tentatively. "I wake up from nightmares almost every night."

"Violent?" Snape frowned. "They shouldn't be violent enough to provoke nightly terror. May I?"

Draco nodded again, and Harry watched as Snape dug deep into Draco's mind. It was quiet for a few minutes, and then it was evident that Snape had finished. His expression was unclear.

"This is troubling," he remarked, his normally scowling face devoid of even a sneer, "The memories I saw in there were quite altered from the originals. The ones that I myself, were part of, of course."

Draco was frowning now. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Some of your visions were a great deal more violent and dark than what had actually happened in your past reality," Snape explained. "For example, the vision of You-Know-Who's visit to the Manor. He hadn't—" he winced slightly, "—quite beaten you as terribly as what you saw. I distinctly remember what it was like as I was present at that particular meeting, and it was far less…_ revolting_ than that."

Harry stood frozen as the two Slytherins deliberated in front of him, unable to fully comprehend what was happening. Was Draco's condition worse than he had previously imagined? Was this going to cause even more issues than before? How could Harry have not spotted this earlier? He was supposed to be helping Draco, understanding him inside and out. Harry bit his lip, feeling like a complete and utter failure; as a helper, as a friend, and as a boyfriend. When he glanced up again, both Snape and Draco wore matching expressions of dismay, Draco's to a greater extent.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Snape said, quietly. Harry had never heard him speak like that before, and it was frightening.

"There _has_ to be some other way," Draco begged, and Harry could almost hear that desperation he had grown so accustomed to hearing only in the dead of the night. That frightened him even _more._

"What? What's going on?" Harry demanded, silently kicking himself for not listening before.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Snape repeated, looking worn. "This isn't healthy at all. It needs to be done if you want to go back to normal."

"No, please," Draco cried. Both were completely ignoring Harry's indignant sputters. "It's not _that_ bad, I don't have to change back, I can deal with the visions by myself—"

"Draco, it's very dangerous. It's risky enough as it is to have you walking around with only a select few of your memories, anyhow. However, I will allow you to make the decision, as it is your life."

Draco's lip trembled violently, and he turned to look at Harry with large, teary eyes. Then the boy opened his mouth to say something, but he only trembled some more before covering his face with his hands. Exasperated, Harry could only vaguely make out the sound of muffled sobbing. He wrapped his arms around Draco at once and guided the blond's face towards his chest, stroking the back of his head and wondering what the hell was going on.

Snape looked at the two of them with an uncharacteristically defeated expression. "I am going to have to alter the potion to fit your new condition. It shall be ready by tomorrow, but again, I am not forcing you to take this antidote, Draco. I am simply advising it, not only as your professor, but also as your godfather," he murmured, almost tenderly.

There was a pause.

"If you choose to take it, all of your memories previous to the accident will be restored. But everything from the moment after you were injured will be promptly erased."

Harry experienced a sharp blow to his chest, now realising what had just happened. Draco was going to go back to normal. Completely back to normal, with no memory of most of this school year and no memory of his relationship with Harry. _No memory._ He felt that rush of panic again, the fear of being completely alone, thrusting him deep under the surface, choking and pulling him further and further below.

It was now that he realised that he had been wrong. He had been so wrong. Draco wasn't going to need Harry now, even if Harry desperately needed him. Draco was going to loathe him all over again, and it was going to be all the more painful because Harry would know _everything_. He would know that the sneering mask Draco wore was just a _mask_, and nothing more. He would know that deep inside, Draco was a scared, lost, insecure little boy who had fears and feelings and _memories._ Worst of all, he would know that he had lost Draco, and might've not even had him to begin with.

And as of right now, it was Draco who sobbed hysterically in Harry's arms. But Harry already knew that by tomorrow, _he_ was going to be the one sobbing hysterically in grief and wretchedness and confliction.

Except by then, there would be no one to hold him. There would be no one to tell him that everything was going to be all right. There would be no one to comfort him and no one for him to comfort. There would be absolutely no one.

It would just be _him_ who ended up getting hurt in the end, all alone. And maybe, just maybe, he'd known that from the start.

**Author's Note: Okay, guys, I'm so SO sorry to be leaving it right there, but I absolutely cannot add more without ruining everything! I am not entirely pleased with this chapter, but since I have been pitter-pattering all about it for days now, I'm just going to end my suffering and post it. It's freaking long, isn't it! Longest chapter I've ever written!**

**Anyways, what do you guys think of LunaxBlaise and GinnyxNeville? I'm honestly not so sure about those pairings, I just randomly pulled them out of the air, and I am still mulling over the possibility of perhaps GinnyxBlaise. Honestly, anything could happen. Opinions?**

**Okay, so I am sad to admit that I will not be writing at all for a couple of weeks, as I am going to be very busy and unable to use any type of internet. I assure you that as soon as I have the opportunity to, I will write the next chapter. I'm so very sorry about that!**

**I will keep the topic short and sweet because this is so very long. I only write Drarry at the moment, but I've been thinking of perhaps branching out and trying to write for some other ships. So what would you like to see in the future, if you plan on staying with me? (Which I hope you do!) And possibly, might you suggest a few example fics to some good non-Drarry fanfiction for inspiration? (But guys, I cannot write/read Dramione, okay? That's the only thing) Sorry for the lame topic and I'll try better next time. I hope you enjoyed this chapter :) xx**


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: Sorry that it's been a couple weeks since the last chapter. Quite unfortunate for Harry and Draco, isn't it? I'm thinking that there will be about two more chapters to this, possibly. Thanks for sticking around!**

Chapter 16

Draco stared at the wall sullenly. He hadn't looked at anything or anyone today, not even in class or at lunch, and nobody had questioned it. Because somehow, they all knew, or could tell, anyways, that today was_ the day_. The day that famously memory-wiped Draco Malfoy changed back into the evil menace he always had been. And although nobody had said anything directly to him, he could see and hear that people were talking about him, pointing at him, and feeling 'genuinely' sorry or remorseful for him. He scowled. Well, he hoped they were all enjoying themselves, because he wasn't exactly having a laugh about it.

"Draco," Pansy murmured, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?"

The two had been sitting together on the couch in the common room for some time now; Draco under the guise of reading but really sulking, and Pansy under the guise of homework but really restlessly watching Draco sulk. He truly was surprised that it had taken the girl this long to muster up the guts to say anything about the dilemma to Draco and he didn't look at her as he shook his head, though he knew that her shoulders had deflated a bit and she was now back to pretending to finish her homework.

Draco sighed. It's not like he wasn't grateful for all the support and concern he was getting from his friends or anything (Nott had offered to do his homework for him, Goyle had quietly apologised, and Blaise was still pissed about Draco not accepting his ever-prized slice of blueberry cobbler at dinner), but honestly, there was only one person that Draco wanted to talk to, and that person had been absent from all their classes and was not to be seen at lunch or dinner. He had thought about going to Gryffindor Tower himself and spending the last bit of time he had left in the mind that he had now with Harry, but he ultimately (and reluctantly) decided against it. If Harry wanted to hole up in the Tower, Draco didn't desire to disturb him.

Plus, there was a thought, a small one, way back in the hidden, dark corners of his mind, that reminded Draco that maybe Harry didn't want to see him before he changed back. Maybe he honestly didn't care whether or not Draco was the way that he was. The idea stung a bit, and Draco bit his lip and turned away from the wall in favour of the burning fireplace.

_Of course Harry cares,_ he told himself. _He says it all the time._

_But what if he's just telling you that? What if he still hates you? _his brain challenged him viciously. Draco wished that he could shut it off. Why was everything so against him lately?

"He's not and he doesn't. He cares about me," Draco declared, and then he flushed when he realised that he'd actually announced that aloud.

Pansy frowned at him. "You sure that you don't want to talk about it?"

He shook his head again.

"Really?"

Sigh. "Fine." Draco turned to face her in anticipation.

Pansy put down her quill and faced him as well, scooting a bit closer so that they could hear each other better. "So, are you upset?" she began.

Draco snorted. "What kind of stupid question is that? _Of course_ I'm bloody upset!"

"Okay, valid point, but no need to bite my head off. What exactly are you upset about?"

"If you are not going to ask me_ intelligent_ questions, I'm refusing to answer them."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I _meant_, are you sad about changing back? Or are you sad about leaving Potter?"

Draco looked down at his lap immediately. "Both," he confessed.

"Why?"

"I'm sad about changing back because I don't particularly want to be this horrible, annoying twit who everybody hates and fears. I don't want to forget the people that I have interacted with as the me that I am now or forget the nice things that have occurred between us, only to go back and taunt them mercilessly. This was like a clean slate for me, you know? An excuse for me to start over and make up for all the terrible things that I've done, apologise to all the people that I've wronged. I don't suppose the old me would do that."

"You don't have to leave that all behind," Pansy said. "When you go back, you can pick up where you left off here. I can remind you."

"Who says that I'll listen?" Draco asked, bitterly. "Who says that I won't just brush it off as a stupid idea?"

Draco had hoped that Pansy might have an arguement for that, but she was only quiet for a bit. After a while, she spoke up again. "And Potter?"

"_Harry_," he corrected her, slowly, "and isn't it obvious why I'm sad to let him go? He stayed with me throughout the whole process, never complaining or doing things for himself. He's selfless. He's fantastic. And the best part is, he doesn't even know it," Draco felt a smile bloom on his face. "He's strong and brave and everything that I'm not; he balances me out perfectly and I don't want to change back and only see him as I did before. I was blind, Pansy, I couldn't see any of those wonderful things through the haze of hate and pride surrounding me. Harry Potter was just a mystery. And I was just a fool."

Pansy seemed to study him for a moment, and Draco suddenly felt very self-conscious. It was like that whenever he talked about Harry, or even thought about him; all of his walls came down and he was completely exposed. And here he was all vulnerable to inspection again because of Harry and how he made him feel like everything was safe and right. Draco didn't know whether this revelation was something that he should rejoice in, or feel afraid of. Perhaps a mixture of both.

"Do you love him?"

The question startled Draco out of his thoughts and he blinked at her. "Excuse me?"

"Do you love him? Potter, I mean." Pansy was still searching his face intently.

Draco flushed. Love? What is love? And how would he have known if he had ever felt it? Nobody had ever bothered to explain the emotion to him and he had never felt the need for it. He thought of the war and of You-Know-Who and of his parents first, and then he thought of Ron and Hermione together, of Blaise's crush on Luna Lovegood, of Hogsmeade weekends and Valentine's Day. He shook his head. Love is every definition; it couldn't be defined. Right?

"I can't be sure," he murmured after a while.

"Well, think about it," Pansy leaned back on the couch and rested her arm across the cushions. "How do you feel when you're with him? What is it that makes him so perfect?"

Draco frowned. Harry was just _Harry_. Was there any other way to put it? _Harry was..._ "not perfect," he blurted out. "_Everything._ He's everything. Good, bad, angry, sad; all of it. He's a tornado of emotions and explosions, and I love every bit of it."

Draco grinned despite himself, satisfied with his answer. Yes, he loved it all. He loved the way that Harry played with his quill in class, the way that he struggled with Potions, his Quidditch-playing and his stubbornness, when he carried Draco's things for him just because he wanted to, how he looked when he slept, when the wind blew the fringe brushing his forehead around, the fact that his hair had most likely never seen a comb in its existence. Harry was certainly not perfect; but he was everything. Their relationship couldn't be labeled as good or bad, exciting or boring, angry or happy. It was _unexplainable_. It couldn't be defined. It was—

"Love," Draco whispered incredulously. He took a shaky breath from the realisation. "I _love _Harry Potter."

Pansy's mouth twitched up and her eyes warmed. "I know you do," she remarked. "I always knew."

"But I haven't loved him always."

"Yes you have. Why do you suppose that I wouldn't be worried if you decided to change back? Draco, I honestly believe that you and Potter will be okay no matter what you do. You will. You might need a bit more of a push if you go back, but trust me, you found your way once—although it took monumental memory loss and bloody fucking forever—and... you can do it again. You _will_ do it again."

Draco smiled at her. Although their talk hadn't made him decide to take the potion like Pansy had doubtlessly hoped it might, it was a huge relief to finally let it all out. Throughout his entire relationship with Harry, he had questioned and analysed and reasoned, he always had. But this time, he was going to let himself _feel. _No more questioning or analysing or reasoning, no, it was time for feeling. Feeling in love. And he wanted everybody in the whole world to know that he, Draco Malfoy, was in love.

"I love Harry Potter," he repeated, raising his voice a little.

Pansy arched an eyebrow. "Yeah, you said that," she remarked.

"_I love Harry Potter!_"

Everybody in the common room swiveled around to stare at him as he stood up and shouted it. There were whispers and mutters scattering the older students as the younger ones tittered and pointed at him, but he didn't care about that. Or the fact that Pansy gave him the weirdest look of all. A few moments later, Blaise and Nott came running down the stairs, obviously having heard the commotion.

"What's going on here?" Blaise asked anxiously, glancing around at the quiet and somewhat hostile group of Slytherins with interest.

Pansy opened her mouth, but Draco cut her off. "I love Harry Potter," he informed his friend.

Nott started laughing. Blaise grinned.

"That's great, Draco."

"Yeah," Draco agreed, before turning around to face his Housemates. "And I don't care what you prats think about it, I love him, damn it!"

There were more whispers, and Draco saw Blaise rolled his eyes at Pansy and Nott. "Right. Let's take him upstairs before he decides to cast a Sonorus and tell the whole school," Nott muttered.

Draco beamed and let the other boys take his arm, leading him up into their dorm amongst the annoyed murmurs. Once there, he began to rummage through his trunk, trying to locate something that he had kept hidden away for nearly his entire life. When he found it, he gazed at it for a long while, turning it this way and that in scrutiny. It had been his father's, and it was mostly sentimental, but he supposed that it would do for the time being until he was able to purchase something more suitable. And who knows, perhaps it could be the link to save him and Harry. The link to save himself. Because if he was going to be in love with Harry Potter, he was going to do it right this time.

Draco took out a sheet of parchment and a quill and scrawled a quick little note, attaching it to the possession and giving it one last fond look. He carefully stowed it in his pocket and looked over at Blaise, who was reading on his bed, wondering if he should discuss the matter with the other boy before he did anything. He _was _his closest friend, after all, and his opinion meant a lot to Draco. He took a deep breath.

"Blaise, did I ever mention—"

"Yeah, yeah, you love Potter, I get it," the darker-haired boy muttered, and Draco made a noise of protest. Guess this wasn't the right time. Oh well, he would just go on his instincts. And then he almost snorted because wow, what a Gryffindor thing to do.

"Excuse me, I was _actually _going to tell you that that jumper makes your arms look good, but you know what? Just for that…" Draco smirked. "I love Harry Potter."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Spiteful little bastard."

**~x~**

"You knew that this would happen."

"I honestly didn't."

Harry was sitting across from Hermione in the Gryffindor common room after dinner, rubbing his forehead and wondering why she had insisted on pestering him further. Ron had already gone up to the dorm, he had apologised profusely for his absence from the pity party, but they had a Quidditch match the next morning and he needed to get some rest for it. Harry understood; even though he'd prefer that some of Hermione's keen focus would go to his redheaded best friend instead of himself.

It was evening; only a couple of hours before he and Draco were to go back to Snape's office for the new potion, and Harry was both afraid and angry. As Draco's boyfriend _and _an ardent Gryffindor, it was his responsibility to do something about this. Wasn't it? He had spent almost the entire day holed up in his room, furiously attempting to come up with a sensible plan, but sensible plans had never really been his strong point and he was bordering on mental now. Plus, he had just wasted another full day of being with Draco and it was putting him in a sour mood.

It hurt; knowing that in just a little while Draco would be no longer his. It hurt more than anything. He hated the feeling of hopelessness; it was unfamiliar and awful to him, understanding that he could not help it no matter what he did. He regretted not taking full advantage of his time with Draco and spending every free second with the boy, because when would he get the chance to do so when Draco changed back? He'd probably never see that brilliant smile on the Slytherin's face ever again. At least, not directed towards him, he wouldn't.

Hermione studied him for a while before saying anything, the flames from the fireplace dancing in her eyes. "You did. It was obvious that pursuing any type of relationship with him would end terribly, but you denied that from the beginning anyway. And I did tell you then, you must remember. So I don't understand why you're so unwilling to be open to other options."

Harry rolled his eyes. Had Hermione no passion of any sort? She only seemed to be making him feel even worse. "So what? It still would have happened no matter what I did or did not deny. And what has 'options' got to do with anything?"

The answering look of disapproval on her face sparked something in his chest, and Harry didn't want to take it anymore. He didn't fancy having to explode at one of his best friends, but she was infuriating the fuck out of him at the absolute wrong time.

"Gods, you just _don't_ get it! This isn't some experiment or situation that you can analyse and nitpick, Hermione, this is my _life_. Why can't you see that it doesn't matter what I do or what _you_ say, it still won't change anything! It won't change how I feel about him, it won't change how he feels about me, it won't change the fact that this_ is_ going to happen and that we can't stop it! And it kills me to know that Draco won't remember anything he might have found miraculously redeemable in me during these past few months. It kills me to know that he'll only remember what I've tried so hard to forget. This will be the third time that he's had to go through those awful memories, and it physically pains me to see him suffer like that because it's not fair! This isn't about you or me, this is about him, and I don't want to sit here and fucking argue about it with you when it really isn't any of your business!"

Harry took a deep breath, that feeling of uncontrollable emotion already promising to unleash itself through one of his notorious magical fits. He managed a few more steady mouthfuls of air before continuing in a softer voice. "And while he's everything to me, I'll only be the same nothing that I've always been to him. Absolutely nothing. Draco… I can't imagine life without him now. He's everything and nothing that I know. He's every part of me that's too afraid to reveal itself, every part of me that wishes and yearns but never gets. And all of that _kills_ me. Could you possibly understand _that_?"

Hermione peered at him, a curious and sad sort of expression now on her face. It was a bit too much like pity for him to swallow, and he looked away. "You love him," she remarked finally, her features soft and tender and uncharacteristically chagrined.

It was a statement, not a question. Because she already knew. And what's more, he knew that she knew that he already knew as well. Her pointed announcement had been like the hidden monster in the room up until this moment, waiting to pounce on them and make everything all the more terrifying than it already was. And it did, it really did. Because Harry knew that what she said was real, he knew that now everything had essentially been thrown out in the open for all to see. And the fact that it had been true since the accident, and most likely before that, was something that should have completely caught him off guard, but now that he honestly thought about it, he was certain that he couldn't have been more aware of it. Then again, if he were to be _completely _honest, he'd always been in love with Draco, in some way or form, from the very beginning. Because wasn't love just hatred set on fire? Er, or maybe that wasn't quite the correct phrase. But it sounded right to Harry.

There was something like a lump in his throat threatening to choke him and suspend his words, but he knew that they wouldn't be anything close to denial. There was no point in lying to Hermione when she clearly saw right through him, as always. He couldn't muster up the vigor to continue to be angry with her anyways.

"So what if I do?" he croaked finally.

"Oh, Harry..."

"It just happened, okay? And it's not going to go away, so don't even say it."

A stray tear fell down the side of his cheek and puddled over his lip and he wiped it away angrily. It was salty and pathetic; it tasted of bitterness and loneliness and everything that was wrong and unfair in life. He was aware that this problem could not be stopped or prevented, almost like his stream of tears, almost like his growing dependence on Draco. It was all inevitable, and how could he not have seen it before? Another roadblock, another crisis: that was all that it was and all that he'd ever known. So why did he think that this would be any different?

"You can get through this," Hermione said, almost determinedly. "You can do anything. For as long as I've known you, you could. You'll move on, I promise. This can't be the end of the world."

Harry shook his head. He'd overcome obstacle after obstacle throughout his entire life, but he didn't think that he could fight this one. Not this time. He was_ tired_ of spending all of his time missing people he loved and regretting things he'd done; always moving: moving away, or moving on. He thought it more as avoiding rather than moving. It was cowardly, and he was just_ tired_ of all the avoiding and fighting and ultimately, settling. He wasn't going to move on, not now, not ever, not as long as he could help it. This would be the one thing in his life that he could control, the one _person_ he would love completely and not have to sacrifice something for. It would finally be Draco.

"I can't let him go."

"Come on, Harry. You _can_."

He turned to her, somehow furious again. "Don't say that! It wouldn't matter even if I were the bloody leader of the whole fucking universe; I still _can't_! I need him, Hermione!"

"He will still be there, he'll just be different, but you can pick up where you left off—"

"No! Don't you understand? He will _hate_ me again! He won't want anything to do with me!"

"Harry—"

"Just help me think this through," he begged now, "help me find a way to keep him like this without hurting him! Please, Hermione, you can solve anything, help me solve this now. I'll do anything. Please."

Hermione's eyes brimmed with tears at his desperation and she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out for a long while. She was his best friend, she had always known how to fix his problems, but this time, _this time_, she couldn't. His heart crumbled with each silent second.

She spoke finally, softly. "I'm sorry, Harry…"

Harry took a shuddering breath and stared at the ground intensely, all of the anger and defiance and vitality leaving him. If Hermione couldn't do anything about it, there surely was no hope for Harry. He had lost. Harry Potter had finally, finally lost the most unexpected war of all. He could go up against the fucking darkest wizard of all time and beat the shit out of him, but he couldn't handle falling in love with a broken teenage boy without ultimately losing him. Brilliant.

"You'll be okay," Hermione murmured.

"I'm not _strong_ enough."

His voice cracked pitifully and he wiped away the wetness from his cheeks in annoyance, cursing them for giving away his weakness. "Do you know what it feels like to be in love, Hermione?"

Hermione gazed at him tiredly. "Yes," she admitted.

"So you know what heartbreak feels like too, then."

"It feels like this."

"Like shit."

"Well, love is sacrifice."

"No, love is fucked up."

"Ah, indeed."

Harry couldn't help but let out a tiny, harsh laugh at her clinical matter-of-fact tone.

"Indeed," he agreed, suddenly very worn out again.

"But Harry," she started, after a few moments, "if you really love him, you won't let him suffer."

He stared at her, trying to understand what she was trying to put across. Of course he loved Draco, and of course he would never let him suffer. So why was it so bloody difficult to let him go? Was he being selfish by trying to keep Draco the way that he was now? Was it wrong? He'd only been thinking of himself, of what he wanted, and not of Draco. Draco's feelings were what was really important here. So it was that time again; the time when Harry would do what was right instead of what he wanted. It was just another battle between his brain and his heart.

"You have to make him want to change back," Hermione concluded.

Harry frowned. "I can't make him do anything," he protested. "He'll do what he wants to do, but the thing I'm really nervous about is if he chooses to leave me…"

Hermione shook her head. "He has to, Harry. It'll save his life."

Harry frowned, now baffled. What? Who said anything about _dying?_ The confusion must have been evident from his expression, because Hermione sighed and bowed her head.

"There's something that you should know," she confessed, and Harry's heart almost stopped at the foreboding words. "When I was researching Draco's condition I found a few things, not very helpful at the time, and not very relevant. But now that recent events have unfolded as they have, I've concluded as such…" she pursed her lips in obvious discontent. "Draco will only live on to get worse. To my understanding, his memories will continue to twist and turn in his brain until they've gone through everything, even the memories from his childhood, until he goes completely mad. He won't have a clue what is real and what isn't anymore. His illness might even twist memories from this year, Harry. It is possible that he could _die _from the madness."

Harry felt a forceful blow attack his chest and he gaped at her in misery. So that was why she had so stubbornly been suggesting that Draco should take the potion. But why had she not told him this before? Hermione furrowed her brows and took his hand at his look of disbelief and he tried to smother a whimper. _Right. She hadn't known it was relevant until Draco had confessed the magnitude of his problem. _

Everything was falling apart. If Draco drank the potion, he would go back to normal and hate Harry, probably forever. And if Draco didn't drink the potion, he'd go mental and possibly die. Plus, he would _still _be lost forever to Harry and either way it went, Draco wasn't his. It was an excruciating feeling of despondency, that nothing would ever be right again. All he'd wanted was a happy, healthy relationship with the boy who had had the nerve to change his life completely, and now, he couldn't even have that. Never mind before, Harry was truly defeated now.

"What am I supposed to do?" he murmured helplessly.

Hermione squeezed his hand. "He's not going to want to change back, Harry. But you have to convince him. Although, I don't think it is a good idea for you to tell him of what I've just told you because his stress level is almost certainly already at an infinite high, but if you must, you must. And I know that you don't think that you're strong enough, but just remember that you have to do this for him because you love him. That will make you strong enough."

Harry suppressed the urge to break down sobbing and moved forward to capture her in a tight hug, hiding his face in her shoulder and wishing that her instructions were just that simple. He wished that she could step in and save the day for him with her smarts, let her take control and show him how to do it. Although it was true that Harry had been the one to defeat Voldemort, there were just some things in life that he was more afraid of than the dark wizard and death. Like broken hearts, telling lies, losing hope. Like feeling lost and alone and guilty, like knowing that there was nothing to be done. Those things were far worse than death. Because Death was easy; it was like a thrilling journey with an abrupt ending, like an effortless way to completely terminate the suffering and simply move on. But life like this, he would never know when the suffering would end; it was just one tragedy after another, a roller coaster of disappointment and misunderstanding. It was long and slow, but also _sudden._

"Harry?"

Harry looked up at the sound of another voice coming from the portrait hole and found Draco himself standing there, looking a bit hesitant. He quickly released Hermione and tried to appear unruffled, but his hands were shaking violently and he had to hide them under his leg. He observed the shiftiness of the Slytherin's movements and the way that he kept shoving his hands in his pockets only to take them out and then shove them in again. Draco was nervous. That wasn't good.

"Is it time yet?" Harry asked casually, glancing at Hermione. Her face was smooth with practiced composure as she shuffled through her bag for who-knows-what.

Draco paled a bit. "No, not yet," he said. "Professor Snape told me that it would be a while longer and that he will not take points off our Houses for coming in after curfew. I just thought it'd be a good idea for us to talk."

Harry felt a jolt of fear. _Play it cool. Be strong. For him. _"A-about what?"

Draco glanced at Hermione, who was still going through her bag. "Private matters," he stated. Hermione looked up and he nodded at her, apologetically. "Do you mind terribly, Hermione?"

"Not at all," she answered, picking up her things and shooting Harry one last warning look. Harry watched her climb up the stairs to the girls' dormitories before slowly turning back towards Draco.

"So…"

Draco walked over and sat down with care in the spot next to Harry. Harry squirmed in his seat, desperately willing himself not to lunge forward and melt in the other boy's embrace.

"You wanted to talk?" he managed.

"Yes," Draco picked at his sleeve nonchalantly, "I wish to inform you that I will not be taking the antidote, as I have had a recent revelation."

Harry caught a light flush creep onto the boy's fair skin before it faded away. It was swift, but he had definitely seen it. Although why did Draco have any reason to blush? He didn't. Harry cleared his throat. "But aren't you going through hell because of those flashbacks?"

"I don't care," Draco now smiled winningly. "As long as I'm with you. I don't want to take the risk of losing this. This is much more important than any of my discomforts."

Harry stared at him for a few moments. No, this was time. He had to tell Draco that he should take the antidote. He had to tell him the truth and make him listen. "Draco, the thing is—"

"I don't want to go back, Harry," Draco interjected. "I can't. The old Draco terrifies me, he's a complete mystery, and the only facts I know about him are all negative. He will always be nothing but a menace. I don't want to be that."

Harry's resolve weakened. "You were more than that," he argued.

"I wasn't." Draco frowned and looked down. "I've been through my memories, Harry, you haven't. You haven't seen the things that I've done, or thought the things that I've thought about. I am genuinely horrible. Either that, or I am really good at hiding it."

"I wouldn't doubt the 'really good at hiding it' option," Harry remarked dryly. "You always were rather secretive."

Draco bit his lip and peeked up at Harry through his lashes. Harry could see that they were shimmering with wetness. "I tried to find something good in me, something that I could be proud of, because I could tell that there was a secret buried inside me that I had been hiding. I thought that maybe if I found that, I could change back and not hate myself for it. I could change back, and I could be somewhat worthy of you. But you know what? I didn't find it. It was just angry little me, being spiteful and terrible to the world."

"Draco, I'm sure that there was something. I know you weren't all bad. You spared Dumbledore's life; you refused to identify me at the Manor. You had morals. You were just lost."

The blond shook his head, letting out a chuckle that was almost resentful. "You're right, I was lost. So lost that I didn't even want to find my way back. I went year after year fighting for the wrong side—fighting against you—and I still didn't believe that I was doing anything wrong until my own life was at risk. I didn't take anything seriously because I was a child. I hated you because you didn't want to be my friend, for Merlin's sake! I thought you were my very worst enemy ever since first year," he paused and shot Harry a weak, watery smile.

"And it's kind of ironic, you see. Ever since then, I believed that my worst enemy would always be _you_." The smile wobbled and a tear escaped down his pale cheek. "But all along, it had been just _me_. I tore myself apart. That was my hidden secret, and that was what I was hiding from the world and myself. I wasn't a martyr, or a victim, or even all that lost. I was just a monster."

Harry didn't know what to say. There was a lot of self-loathing in Draco's tone and speech, as if he had completely lost faith in his own character. He didn't know how he was supposed to tell Draco that he now had to return to that other boy that he loathed so much. But he had to, if only to save Draco from himself, by going back to himself. Or whatever, it was complicated. Complicated and undeserved and entirely wrong.

"I know that you're scared," Harry began. "But you weren't, and never will be, a monster. I don't want to hear you say that about yourself, it isn't true. Sure, you've made mistakes and you've done some things that you aren't proud of, but there were always reasons behind it. I refuse to believe that your old self did those cruel things just because he wanted to do it."

He took a deep breath in preparation, knowing that this was the time that he needed to inform Draco of the seriousness of his illness. He had to make sure that there was absolutely no possibility that Draco could die from it, even if it meant sacrificing his own bloody feelings.

But the moment was lost as Draco immediately leapt forward and molded their bodies together, causing the words to vanish from Harry's lips. Instead, Draco's mouth was now occupying them, and before he could stop and think about it, Harry was unable to prevent himself from responding; his hands had tangled themselves in Draco's silvery locks and he was kissing him back. Draco tasted of heaven and hell at the same time, lovely and fiery and passionate and forbidden. And he was like breathing, sleeping and eating—essential to Harry's mind and body at all times.

_Everything, _Harry thought wistfully, letting himself get lost in Draco's warm embrace for this last time.

To his disappointment, Draco pulled back much faster than he had expected, but his grey eyes were shining with such euphoria and hopefulness that Harry had never seen before. "Harry…" Draco breathed, while simultaneously reaching into his pocket. "Will you m—"

The portrait swung open, interrupting whatever the Slytherin was about to say, and both boys turned their heads to find a small black messenger owl swooping in and coming straight for them. It landed on the armrest and pecked at Draco's shoulder, holding out its leg that had a little paper scroll attached to it. Draco pulled the scroll from the bird's leg carefully, as if it were a fragile object, and then petted its head. Satisfied, the owl flew off back towards the exit, and Draco glanced at Harry.

"Well?" Harry pressed, apprehensively. He had a feeling he knew what it was.

Draco turned his attention back to the scroll and unraveled it, his eyes darting back and forth as he read the words. A few moments later, he crumpled up the parchment in his hand and wandlessly incinerated it. "Let's go," he announced shortly, untangling himself from Harry's body first and then holding an arm out to help Harry from the couch.

Harry silently let Draco lift him up, and the two of them started out of the Tower down to the dungeons. It was a long walk of silence, and Harry had to wonder what Draco was truly thinking at the moment. He hadn't really done a good job of trying to convince Draco to take the potion… actually, he hadn't really done _anything_ to convince him, so now would have to be the time. He glanced over at Draco, whose mouth was set in a straight line but was wobbling slightly at the corners, and turned away quickly. No. He'd find some other time to do it.

_What other time? He's getting the potion now! _his brain reminded him annoyingly.

_- Shut up. I'll do it later, _he thought in response, hoping to quiet it in a futile attempt.

_Says the Gryffindor._

_- Shut up! You have no idea how stressful this is._

_Uh, don't I?_

_- Shut up!_

_Witty comeback._

_- I am NOT having an arguement with myself._

_You are selfish._

Harry shook his head and scowled. Now he was just being delusional. He should just talk to Draco about it, how hard could it be? He turned back to look at the other boy again, but found that they were already at Snape's door and Draco was knocking on it. Harry quickly shut his mouth and followed him as the door flew open.

"Draco, Potter," Snape greeted coolly. He stepped back to let them in. "I have the antidote ready. Have you made your decision, Draco?"

Draco breezed into the room and Harry trailed after him, feeling quite anxious. Snape's expression was carefully concealed, but he could tell that the man desperately wanted Draco to take the potion. Harry had to wonder whether or not Snape even knew about the eventual result of Draco's illness, and if he would force the potion if he did. The man still _wasn't_ forcing it, so Harry could not be positive.

"I'm not taking it, sir. I came down here to tell you so."

Snape's face now displayed some distress. "Draco, I cannot guarantee that you will remain healthy while in this condition, I would highly recommend changing back for the sake of your health—"

"I'm willing to take that risk," Draco declared. "I'm not ready to leave this version of myself behind."

Snape took a few deep breaths as if to compose himself and then whirled around to face Harry. His eyes were blazing. "I am_ certain_ that you have something to do with this. You cannot keep Draco to yourself, Potter, and particularly _not_ for your own selfish gain! How dare you? You impertinent little brat!"

Draco started to stammer his protests, but Harry spoke up louder. "I didn't encourage this, sir. In fact, I think that he should take the potion," he offered cautiously, trying to restrain himself from dropping to his knees and begging Draco to run instead. "Go ahead with the antidote, if you will."

Snape made a few sputtering noises, but Harry wasn't looking at him. He was looking at the boy who was now gaping at him in disbelief. "You can't be serious?" Draco said, slowly.

Harry trembled a little; but he tried to keep his face composed and emptied of anything that could give him away, though he was dangerously close to breaking. "It's for your own good, Draco." His voice was unnaturally low.

"You_ can't_ be serious," Draco repeated, colour rising in his cheeks now, "what has gotten into you? Why would you want me to change back?"

Snape cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um, I will leave you two to discuss matters on your own," he drawled, before spinning around and hurriedly exiting through the door that Harry had earlier guessed was his private chambers.

Draco was still staring at him, so he closed his eyes. "Don't make this harder, please. Just take the antidote," Harry almost begged.

"No! I'm going to make this harder than _rock_ until you explain to me why are you doing this! Have I done something wrong? Are you tired of me? What is it, Harry?"

Harry tried not to imagine the pleading expression he knew was surely plastered on the other boy's face at the moment, knowing it would only make him question his decision. It was already difficult enough that he had to let Draco go, but fighting the blond when he really didn't believe in the cause was draining him completely. He couldn't form a decent arguement, and how was he supposed to when he didn't want to argue it in the first place? All he wanted was Draco, safe and happy and untainted in his arms, the two of them together without a care in the world. But it wasn't possible.

He _had_ to make sure that Draco wouldn't suffer, even if it meant that Harry would suffer endlessly himself, perhaps for a few months, or a year or two. Although he had a funny feeling that Draco would always wriggle his way back into Harry's heart, and maybe it'd be nostalgia, or even regret, that would cause him to remember the times he had with Draco and rehash the pain. Either way, it would hurt. But he knew that it had to be done and that he had to keep reminding himself that he was doing it for one particular reason and one reason only: Draco.

And with that, Hermione's words echoed hauntingly in his brain, leaving him feeling vacant and shattered. _He's not going to want to change back, Harry_, she warned. _But you have to convince him._

Harry opened his eyes, and sure enough, that earnest expression of Draco's made him catch his breath and did almost cause him to change his mind, but he withheld the urge at the last moment with obvious effort. He wanted to let out a bitter laugh, because despite everything and several hours of inner turmoil, all it might take to set him off begging again was one mere look from the blond. Harry's willpower was so weak when it came to Draco, but he knew that he must carry on.

"You need to take the potion," he managed to grunt lamely.

"What, so this past year has meant _nothing_ to you?" Harry winced at Draco's words as the boy continued with a hurt look in his grey orbs. "Don't lie to me Harry, we have something amazing together and you know it. It's like from the moment I woke up after the accident and saw you, I _knew_ that you were special. And you know what? I was right. Not because you're Harry Potter or the Boy Who Lived or whatever crap, but because you were standing there at my bedside despite every fucking stupid thing that had happened between us. Because you continued to be there and now you're still here. Because when I'm in your arms I feel like I'm in the safest place in the world, despite all of the horrors that I have to witness again. Because your eyes are the most fucking brilliant shade of green and I just _know _that even though I lost my memory they were always that green and gorgeous and constant and 100% you."

His eyes softened in adoration, which made Harry's heart melt and break at the same time. "You, the boy who never gave up on me. You, the boy who refused to leave even when I told you to. You are still that boy, aren't you?" Harry nodded sluggishly, too mesmerised by those eyes to create a proper response. "Then why are you giving up on me now? Why are you leaving me? You care about me, don't you? ...Didn't you?"

"Of course I do... And did," Harry shot back immediately, not thinking. "You know that I remind you that practically every day."

"Well, it's things like this that makes me question it," Draco pointed out, causing a feeling of guilt to come rushing to Harry's chest. "Every time you reassure me I feel confident that I know, but then I have another flashback of us entirely loathing each other and I'm unsure again. And it's frustrating because I'm _tired _of being so unsure about every little thing and the fact that I'm so unsure about you makes me feel like I don't know anything at all, and especially not of myself, because you make me myself, you know that? Or at least what I wish that I were. You gave me a second chance to _like_ myself that nobody ever gave me. You're the only one that I could ever see myself happy with for the rest of my life. You're the only one who makes me _happy_," he was rambling now, "But you're so special and confident and strong while I'm so insecure and weak and useless, and sometimes I feel like I'm holding you back, creating too much of a contrast or that I'm so very wrong for you because I'm completely insane. Then again so are you, in your own way. We're very wrong for each other, you know? But just wrong enough that it works. Though I suppose that's why I'm so ridiculously in love with you."

Draco blushed now, seemingly having blurted out that last bit of information without thinking first. His eyes were bright from his passionate speech.

Harry felt a lump form in his throat. "You love me?" he whispered disbelievingly.

Draco seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then he smiled and reached for Harry's hand. "Always," he promised, and his declaration sent chills of elation and sadness through Harry at once.

He wanted to tell Draco that he was in love with him too; stupidly, insufferably, and completely in love with him. But he knew he couldn't do that, it would only make him want to stay more. Gods, why was everything so against him lately? He was in love with Draco and Draco was in love with him, but they were against all possible odds that ever existed. And wasn't that just fucking fantastic.

_But you have to convince him._ That voice, that pesky, stupid, reasonable voice, was back to force him to return to pesky, stupid, reasonable reality. A reality where he and Draco were obviously not meant to be. Harry knew that there was only one way to handle this now, and it would kill him to do it.

"No," he murmured, his voice cracking slightly.

Draco froze. "What's that?"

"I..." Harry knew that he had to break him, and he knew just how to break him. It would be simple, like beating Neville at Potions or catching the Snitch for the umpteenth time. But he _absolutely_ didn't want to do it. Then again, this wasn't about what Harry wanted.

"Speak up, Harry," Draco whispered, his tone carefully controlled.

"I don't… I don't want you to love me," Harry muttered.

"Why not?" Draco demanded, his voice rising shrilly. A panicked glint appeared in his countenance and he grabbed Harry's hand, forcing it on his chest in their familiar parting gesture. Harry winced and bit his lip. "Look at me! I said, _look at me, Harry_! Tell me why not!"

Harry looked at him with reluctant hooded eyes, only slightly catching the intensity of Draco's questioning gaze and the anger, the confusion, the hurt in it. He didn't want to go on with this—didn't think he could—Draco's face was illuminated with all sorts of painful things that Harry had never wanted to see in his life. He knew that if he looked, and really _looked_, at Draco, he'd be lost forever. And he couldn't afford to lose himself now, not when Draco was in this fragile state. He had to be strong enough. He was going to be strong enough.

"I can't leave you," Draco whispered, "as long as I know that it'll hurt you. I won't do this to you no matter what it means for me. Because it will hurt you, won't it?"

Harry stared at him now. Of course the prat was trying to protect Harry when Harry was trying to protect him! It was such a typical Malfoy move! It almost made Harry want to laugh and cry at the same time; with happiness or desperation, he did not know. Draco was right, he _was_ insane, insane for loving Harry at all. And Harry was even more insane, for loving Draco back.

But he knew that he had to make sure that Draco believed that he didn't need him to stay. He was never good at lying, but he would have to put on a convincing performance, for Draco. It would have to be truly excellent and Harry wasn't sure if he could pull it off. And of course, there was that treacherous part of his brain that didn't want to pull it off in the first place.

"I'll be fine," he forced out steadily, watching various expressions flit across Draco's face once more before settling to one of perplexity.

"Fine?" Draco repeated hollowly. "It won't hurt you if I change back?"

Harry's heart shattered and he wanted to take everything back, to fall into Draco's arms and beg him not to believe his words. "N-no. I want you to go back to normal," he choked instead.

Draco still looked puzzled with his head tilted to the side, appearing as though he didn't know what to believe. The expression created a defensive and desperate explosion in Harry's chest and he felt another tantrum rapidly coming on. Harry didn't care about what happened to him any longer; but he'd_ never_ forgive himself if Draco stayed the way he was, loving Harry but hating life. Fearing it.

"Go on! Drink the damn potion! I didn't need you; you needed me, but I didn't need you and I don't need you now! And you don't need me either anymore, so _go!_ It's nothing to me, just don't—" he found himself unable to continue shouting, his words cut off by his own traitorous heart aching inside of him. He hastily pulled the hand Draco had placed over his chest for him away and attempted to appear harsh and unyielding.

Draco didn't flinch at his outburst. He peered at Harry inquiringly instead, now at a small distance, his fist placed instinctively on his heart like he'd done with Harry's.

"Do you love me back, Harry?" he asked.

"W-what?"

"Do you love me."

Harry felt pain and horror rising in his chest, he wanted to confirm his love, and he _needed_ to. But he couldn't. If Draco knew, if he _knew_... This could be the last straw, and Harry had to push him over the edge. Draco had to believe that Harry didn't care. Oh gods, why did it have to come to this? When had his greatest weapon become his greatest downfall?

"I... I can't," he mumbled, almost inaudibly.

But he knew that Draco had heard him, loud and clear. The other boy flinched now and he didn't look confused at all anymore. His eyes searched Harry's face intently one last time and Harry had to clamp his mouth shut and stare at the ground with a hardened gaze, knowing that he had held Draco in the palm of his hand, and he had crushed him in it. And by that, he had crushed a piece of his own soul as well.

"I see," Draco finally responded, after what seemed like an entire lifetime. His tone was stiff and formal and heartbreaking, and he was not shaking or pleading anymore. And it was almost like he was already back to normal again, down to every facial expression and body movement and icy manner. He was wearing the Malfoy mask.

And Harry snapped. He couldn't do this. He had made a mistake! Draco had to know the truth; Harry just couldn't let him change back without him knowing! "Wait no, Draco, you don't _understand_—"

"Professor Snape, you can come back in now. I've made my decision," Draco announced loudly, cutting Harry off without a second listen.

Snape was back in the room and at Draco's side before Harry could even blink and he handed the Slytherin that damned liquid-filled vial with a bit of a smirk on his face, most likely directed at Harry's distraught expression. The man had gotten what he wanted; he'd gotten his godson back, while Harry was losing him. It was probably a win-win situation for him.

Harry felt helpless. He'd done what he needed to do, but what was the price? Friendship? Redemption? Love? He didn't know. He honestly didn't. His whole world was crashing down upon him and he still didn't fucking know.

Draco uncorked the vial slowly and held it to his lips, but he paused for a moment to glance over at Harry. _I'm giving you what you want, _his grey eyes seemed to say.

_But this isn't what I want! _Harry yearned to scream. _I want you to love me forever!_

_Too late._

And at the last second before he tipped the vial further, Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box, tossing it at Harry's feet before downing the antidote, leaving both Harry and the world as he currently understood it completely behind.

**~x~**

Draco Malfoy woke up in the school infirmary a week later with the biggest headache of his life. There were several people in the room with him fretting over his every need and offering him their support and sympathies. Draco even noticed one slightly out-of-place Harry Potter in the corner of the room (how strange!), although he wasn't speaking to Draco, or anybody else for that matter.

Madam Pomfrey forced her way through the sea of visitors to his bedside and felt his forehead. She looked impatient.

"How do you feel, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco frowned. Wasn't there a particular way that he was supposed to feel right now? His eyes darted across every face in the area until his gaze landed on one certain green-eyed hero, who was staring back at him with rapt attention. And then, Draco got it.

"Famished," he declared.

**~x~**

It was a ring.

It was a bloody engagement ring.

_When the time is right, _the note simply read.

Harry felt the world crashing down upon him once more.

**Author's Note: Eek, sorry guys, this was supposed to be my big, bad, drama-filled chapter, and I fear that it lacked in angst and was much too long! I tried though and that's what counts, right? ... So anyways, we're quickly coming to the end of this fic, and I have to say that I am a bit sad for that. I do love this world that I've created for Harry and Draco, and I hope that you guys do too! But I suppose that I have to move on sometime, right?**

**So this was a lot of Harry, mainly to show you guys his inner turmoils. He has a lot of them, and honestly, I am not sure I got to them all. This would be a tough decision to make, would it not? But we all know how Harry is, so cross your fingers that he stays true to his character, yeah?**

**So how about another topic? I've read several fics where Harry and/or Draco have Animagus forms, and I feel like each one I read there is something different. So what's your favorite, or in your opinion, which Animagus forms do you think would fit Harry and Draco, and why? **

**Sorry, it's kind of weak. But I'm running out of things to talk about. Personally, I don't have a preference, but I think it'd be funny if Draco's was a ferret. Anyways, until next time! Love you guys! **


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: Hi guys, so we're almost to the end of the story here, I hope you all got as much enjoyment out of reading it as I did writing it. I do believe it will be this chapter and one more, but I may write an epilogue too. If, that is, you want one ;)**

Chapter 17

Draco hated the staring.

He'd always hated it, especially after the war, and right now was_ not_ an exception. Okay, so he'd been a completely different person for almost a year, did that give them the right to gape at him like he was some sort of freak? No. It didn't. Well, at least to him it didn't. And honestly, who else mattered?

Draco was in an especially bad mood this morning because it seemed that no one was willing to come clean about the time that he spent wandering around as essentially a Draco Malfoy clone. He scowled; remembering the way that Snape had refused to tell him anything when he'd woken up. Bastard. It was only natural that he was curious, and didn't he have the right to know? So why was everybody so tight-lipped? It seemed like whenever Draco brought up anything about the past couple of months, everybody would go silent or quiet and look around uncomfortably before changing the subject. Had he made some sort of fool of himself or something?

Draco kept up his speedy pace as he walked through the dungeons, studiously ignoring every whisper and point and stare. He scowled again. Really, what was so interesting about him anyways? It wasn't like he was the bloody Queen of England. And if he _were_, he'd probably have all of their heads on sticks.

"I wonder how many flies you've caught in that wide open gob of yours?" he sneered suddenly, turning his head to glare at a timid-looking fourth year who'd been one of the gawkers. The girl quickly scurried off in fright at his snarl, and with that exchange, many of the other students began to swarm away from him as well. He was a bit surprised that they hadn't run at the very first sight of him; obviously they'd gotten too comfortable in his absence of mind. Well, he'd have to change that.

Whatever. Draco rolled his eyes and continued down the corridors on his way to breakfast. It was his first day back from the Hospital Wing; Madam Pomfrey had insisted that he stay there for another couple of days after he'd woken up to make sure that all of his sleeping, eating, and memory patterns were all right. And sure, he'd told them many times that he was just fine, but nobody cared what he said. It was a funny thing, really. They all cared _so_ much about his welfare but they couldn't stop and actually listen to him for a moment. And well, it wasn't actually funny at all. Just annoying, and sad.

As Draco arrived at the doors, he immediately found that a crowd of Gryffindor Quidditch players had surrounded themselves around the entrance of the Great Hall, and he sighed irritably at the unwanted obstruction. Nevertheless, he kept walking, determined not to let their watching him faze him, although he couldn't help but notice that their looks were a little different than the ones he'd received earlier. Some looked at him speculatively, some appeared expectant. One even gave him a quiet, "good morning, Draco."

He almost snorted. And wasn't that just rich? The team of the insensitive wanker who had essentially knocked him out for an entire school year was greeting him! How lovely. How _considerate. _

Draco wrinkled his nose at them in disdain. "What are you all gawking at? I'd imagine you ought to be at my feet in appreciation for saving your bloody leader's incompetent arse. Though I fully expect that he's gotten kicked off the team for that," he boasted, as somewhat of a duty. He actually didn't give a damn whether or not Potter was on the team. At this point, he didn't really give a damn about Potter at all.

A girl that Draco didn't care to recall by name frowned at him and spoke up boldly. "But weren't you the one who got him to—_ouch!_"

Draco saw the girl Weasley—Potter's girlfriend, if he remembered correctly—jab her in the arm warningly to stop, and for some reason, that annoyed him. What gave her the right to censor certain events that concerned him? And why did she care? She had no reason to acknowledge him at all.

"See you at breakfast, Malfoy," Weasley muttered quickly, before nodding her head at the team to follow her as she entered the Great Hall.

Draco sighed and trailed after them inside, heading towards the Slytherin table and giving the Gryffindors a lingering glower just for kicks. But as he sat down at his usual spot, his Housemates surrounding him suddenly got very quiet and whisper-y, like in the corridors. Even Blaise and Pansy were subdued. Wow, looks from his own House, this was worse than he'd imagined. He groaned irritably but didn't comment on it, not wishing to draw further attention to himself.

He'd gathered up almost half a plate of food before he heard someone saying his name, and then something else. Draco's head snapped up at the source, recognising it as Daphne Greengrass. Gods, her voice was positively grating.

"_I love Harry Potter,_" she said again, a mocking hint to her tone.

Draco stared at her and she gazed back in challenge, as if the statement was especially for him. A few other Slytherins listening in snickered with her, while sneaking taunting glances at him as well. Draco wrinkled his nose. Why the hell were they all looking at him? It wasn't _his_ fault if Daphne turned into some barmy little Potter-admirer. Sometimes, he had to wonder about that girl. She and her entire family were absolutely mental and Draco would rather become a nun than marry into it, arranged or not, even if Astoria wasn't too horrible-looking for a not-male. Still mental.

"Well, that's truly enlightening news," he announced coldly at her, when the tittering had become almost too much to bear. "I reckon only a complete _imbecile_ would, but then again, you never were the brightest witch of them all, Daphne."

He'd expected to get a few laughs of support, but there were none. It was blaringly quiet, even, save for an awkward cough or two in the back. Almost as if he'd just gone and announced that he was still afraid of the dark, or something equally embarrassing. Draco wilted in defeat, scowling, and Daphne smirked at him triumphantly. Well, fuck everybody. He didn't need them.

Draco pouted in his seat for a few more moments before an arm squeezed his leg comfortingly and he looked up to see Blaise glaring at the Greengrass bint, who was still smirking like there was no tomorrow. "No one cares who you think you love this week, you filthy _slut_," Blaise hissed, causing the girl to balk angrily and the attention of the table to leave Draco for just a moment.

When everyone was turned away, Draco looked to his friend in gratitude. "Thanks," he muttered.

"Don't mention it," Blaise said. Then he lowered his voice. "Are you okay?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You ask me that every day. And since you visit me all the time, you'd probably know the status of my health better than I would."

"Not that, you prat. I mean about all this—" he motioned around them vaguely, "—the attention. How are you faring with it?"

"It's bloody annoying," Draco sighed. "I may just get a few detentions for hexing some of these stupid arsewipes. You'd think they'd let up just a bit since I've been practically glaring them into the soil all morning."

"You're a hot topic right now," Nott cut in, and Draco looked around, noticing that his friends were all leaning in to join the conversation. "They're going to be all over you for weeks. You've lost your memory, gotten it back, but lost some of it again! It's quite gossip-worthy."

Draco scowled. "So I'm guessing that you guys won't spill anything either, right?"

Blaise shook his head. "Sorry. We're on strict orders not to."

"Oh, on who's orders? Professor Killjoy?" he asked sarcastically.

"Draco, Snape is only trying to help you," Pansy reminded him.

"Well, it's not working," he muttered. "I'm still getting attacked with whispers and taunting and jokes that I don't understand. Do you know how frustrating that is? I just don't get why someone can't tell me what happened this year! It's not a difficult task!"

Nobody answered the last bit, but Goyle patted his hand sympathetically. "I'll beat anyone up for you if you want. Just say the word," he offered.

Draco snorted softly. "You know at this rate, I might just take you up on that, Goyle."

His friends glanced at him a couple more times before leaning back to continue their meals, and Draco let his gaze wander around the Hall. It immediately landed on the Gryffindor table, where many of them were still staring at him, and he huffed indignantly. Why the hell were all the Gryffindors so intent on him today? Was it their twisted way of apologising on their leader's behalf?

Draco took a closer look. Speaking of Potter, where was he? He hadn't seen the other boy since the day he woke up in the Hospital Wing, and even then he hadn't even gotten the chance to inquire why he was there. Draco had expected a fake 'sorry', at least, but Potter had booked it the moment Draco could actually speak. He shook his head. Well, how rude of him. And it wasn't like he even _wanted _Potter to come talk to him, anyways. Even if he did have a few things that he wanted to ask him.

Now that Draco thought about it, Potter did look rather distraught then. His clothes had been all rumpled, as if he'd sat in them for days, his hair resembled a dirty mop (although that wasn't much different than usual), and his eyes were bloodshot and weary. But Draco could distinctly remember the last time he saw those eyes, when they were bright and wide with shock and horror. When Draco had been hit by the bludger. And for some reason, it just made him feel all guilty and terrible inside when he saw them again, so completely defeated and empty. But for what? He didn't know.

He shook his head. And did he really want to know? This was Potter he was thinking about, the Boy-Who-Lived-to-avoid-Draco. Potter hadn't spoken to him much prior to the accident, and Draco doubted that he would have over these past few months anyhow. Why would he? Though, he supposed he would never know, especially now that the git was supposedly nowhere to be seen, ever. Draco bit his lip and tried to forget about it. It wasn't like it even mattered, anyway. He should just enjoy being back to normal, despite all the staring. Besides, he had a right to sit here and have a pleasant breakfast with his friends, like it was any other day.

Wishing to initiate a light conversation, Draco nudged Blaise's shoulder to start. "Since I'm not allowed to ask about myself, what's been up with you during these past couple of months? Anything new?"

Blaise shook his head, swallowing a bite of toast before responding properly. "Nothing really, no."

"Pity. Thought you might've gotten in a good shag or something. I bet I haven't had any," Draco pouted wistfully.

Blaise snorted, much louder than Draco had expected him to. "No, you haven't," he seemed to be choking on something, although he wasn't eating anymore. "Bloody virgin," he muttered, under his breath.

"Hey, I'm not a virgin!" Draco protested, and Blaise coughed as if covering a laugh.

"Wasn't talking about _you, _dimwit_._ Besides, what would it matter if you did anyways? You wouldn't remember it. Go have a shag now if you want one so much."

"All right," Draco took a sip from his goblet, "how about you and me have a go, eh? Call it a little… welcome back present."

He had meant it as a joke, but Blaise glanced at him sharply, appearing almost hurt at the insinuation. "Draco, you know that I—" he stopped, and Draco assumed he was going to say 'am straight', but his eyes flickered over to the Ravenclaw table instead before he flushed darkly and mumbled, "that wasn't funny."

"Yes it was. And what's the use of having friends if you can't fool around every once in a while?"

"I don't know," Blaise snapped, "why don't you ask Millicent? I'm sure she'd be happy to comply."

Draco shuddered. "Okay, _that _wasn't funny. She's a girl, and... well, ew." He looked Blaise up and down, noticing that his friend seemed genuinely bothered by the conversation. Was there something that he missed? Well… _besides_ the several months he'd forgotten. Honestly, Blaise was supposed to be his closest friend, but he seemed to be keeping a lot of things from Draco lately. It might've had to do with the fact that he wasn't allowed to share events of the past year with him, but it still hurt.

"Merlin's balls, Blaise," Draco said softly. "I was just messing around. What's got your knickers in a twist?"

Blaise shot him a dirty look. "Nothing." Draco only peered at him suspiciously before turning back to his meal. He was about to take a sulky bite when he heard Blaise mutter again, "and he would _kill _me if I tried anything with you."

Draco perked up with interest. "Wait, who?" Then his mouth dropped open. "Oh, don't tell me you have a boyfriend. All these years of insisting that we couldn't hook up because you were 'straight', and you have a _boyfriend_? Gods, you fucking liar… Who is it? Can I take a stab at him?"

"I don't have a boyfriend!" Blaise exclaimed, but his eyes continued to travel where they shouldn't, and this time it was towards the Gryffindor table. Draco followed his gaze and gasped—when had Potter gotten here? It seemed like the back of that scruffy head was taunting him, and Potter was in on the game. But what sort of game was he playing at, though? And then Draco realised that Blaise's eyes were trained in the exact same region as his own.

"Potter?" he screeched, a little louder than intended. Some students had leaned towards them with interest, but quickly went back to their meals once Draco glared at them. "Are you doing something with Potter? Because I swear to fucking Merlin, Blaise," he hissed, quieter now.

Blaise turned to him, a curious expression forming on his previously mortified face. "Why, does that bother you, Draco?" he asked, slowly.

Draco sputtered a bit now. Why would it bother him? Potter was nothing but an enemy to him. Nothing at all. He scowled to himself. Okay, even _he_ knew that was a lie. Potter was something, he had always been something, but Draco had never quite figured out what it was. He'd just assumed that the 'something' meant Potter was a great big prat. Because he was. And even if he was lying about that, there was no such reason for Draco to care if his best friend wanted his worst enemy. But at the thought, blood rushed to his face and he suddenly realised that he was gripping the table much harder than he should.

"I don't care, Blaise. Do whatever the fuck you want with him. But just remember that you'll have a pissed off Weaselette on your tail if she finds out," he growled.

Blaise looked confused for a moment. "Who?"

Draco stared at him. "Weasley? Ginny..."

"Oh _her_," Blaise's eyes went wide, "it doesn't matter, because they—" he stopped again, in that mysterious way that was starting to get on Draco's nerves, a _lot. _"I mean, she won't find out. Potter and I are very secretive, indeed."

Draco seethed inwardly, for whatever purpose he didn't understand. Because for some deluded reason, everything had gone back to Potter. But really, why was he even surprised? _Everything_ always went back to Potter. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Potter get up from the Gryffindor table, alone, and start towards the exit. And some crazy instinct in him made him stand up and follow him.

"Potter," Draco said, loudly, as the large double doors crashed shut behind him. Then it was so silent that he could've heard a pin drop. Potter's back went rigid at the sound of his voice, but he didn't turn around, nor did he say anything. The lack of response sparked some of the familiar annoyance within Draco.

"Potter, I'm talking to you. The respectful thing to do would be to _look_ at me."

Draco had expected a smart-arse answer, but Potter only moved slowly, as if it pained him to do it, and it seemed like several minutes passed before he was completely facing Draco. Still, he wasn't looking up.

"What do you want?" Potter asked quietly.

"Are you sleeping with Blaise?" Draco demanded. Oops. He hadn't meant to blurt it out like that, but since the question was already out there…

Potter was shocked. "Uh, what?"

"He implied that you were," Draco remarked, his tone a little less harsh than he would have preferred it to be. "And I was just wondering if it's true."

"Zabini?" Potter acquired a strange look as he seemingly began to search Draco's face. After a while, he rolled his eyes. "I'm not even going to grace that with a response." He turned again, obviously meaning to go back to Gryffindor and end the conversation.

Draco was a bit offended by that. Potter was supposed to be apologising to him, not blowing him off! And why couldn't he just give him a straight answer? "What, are you scared, Potter?" he yelled out after him.

Potter stopped again. "Why should I be scared, Drac—oh, _Malfoy_?" His words were careful, but not careful enough. Draco was baffled by the random slip of the name. When had Potter ever called him 'Draco'?

He shook his head. Potter was actually getting weirder by the day. Who would've guessed? "Excuse me, but I think the appropriate response to that would have been 'you wish'," he pointed out.

Potter hesitated again and turned a little, and to Draco's surprise, looked as if he were fighting a smile. "Right. You wish, Malfoy," he replied easily, before turning away again and starting towards the stairs.

Draco stared after him, finding himself quite unable to move for the next couple of minutes.

**~x~**

Harry thought that he'd be able to sit in the same Hall as Draco without crumbling, but he'd only lasted about five minutes. It had been too much to handle. And then Draco had the nerve to_ follow_ him… Harry had just barely made it to the common room couches after the encounter before Hermione burst in, appearing both frantic and sympathetic at the same time.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, rushing over to him loudly. The common room was empty, as it was still breakfast, and she reached over and hugged him tightly. "I saw Draco go after you when you left. Are you okay? Did you tell him?"

Harry let her coddle him a bit longer before he gently pushed her away. "I'm all right, and no, I didn't. Snape told us that it would be better for his health and sanity if we all just kept quiet and let it blow over, remember?"

At first, he'd been outraged when Snape had suggested that to Draco's 'inner circle of friends', and especially to Harry—because didn't the man see how important Draco was to him? How lost he would be without him? But then, Snape had no reason to care about Harry's feelings. And Harry did have to admit that he had a point. If all of the events that had happened to Draco over the past year were suddenly thrust upon him, the poor boy might go through some sort of mental breakdown, and that's what they'd been avoiding from the start with the potion. It would defeat the point completely. Harry shook his head.

"Yes, he said that," Hermione murmured, "but he also said that each one of us had a choice whether or not to tell him anyways. And we all know that the comment was directed towards you."

Harry flushed a little, looking down at his lap and refusing to answer. He knew that times were truly bad when even Snape had some pity for him. This past week and half had been like hell for him; waiting for Draco to wake up from the potion, seeing the blank look in his eye as he did, the obvious dislike when he'd stopped him in the hall earlier. Harry felt as if he were in a trance, a dream; he didn't feel as if this were reality. Because if this were reality, Draco would remember that he loved Harry and understand that Harry loved him back. Well, at least, in the reality that Harry liked to believe he lived in.

"I'm not going to sacrifice his wellbeing just because I'm stupid and lonely," he said quietly.

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. "You know, sometimes it's okay to be a little selfish, Harry. Especially when it concerns matters of the heart."

He shook his head again, but before she could say anything else, the portrait burst open again and Ron came ambling into the room.

"Sorry, I had to finish my muffin. It was the last one and Seamus was definitely eyeing it," he offered, as an explanation. "Oh, and I saw Malfoy on the way up here, too. He was just standing there like a statue—didn't you see him, Hermione? Anyways, I reckon Snape's potion wasn't half-arsed after all, because I bumped into him and he told me to 'watch where I was going, Weasel' before going back to just standing there again. And oh, you don't know how_ tempted_ I was to tell that git how many times he'd called me 'Ron' this past school year. That would've shut his trap!"

"We are aware of that, and for god's _sake_ Ronald, shut up," Hermione snapped, causing Ron to pout before shooting an apologetic glance at Harry.

"Sorry, mate."

Harry shook his head. "It's okay. You guys don't have to walk on eggshells around me, all right? I'm fine. Really."

"Harry, we wouldn't judge you if you—"

"No, just… don't. I know you're trying to help me, but I really don't want it," Harry stared down at his hands adamantly to avoid looking into the faces of his concerned friends. But after a while, he felt as though he were being smothered by a layer of uncertainty. He took a shaky breath. "You know that feeling when you've completely screwed up and you want to take it back, but you know that if you do things are going to be just as screwed up and no matter what happens, it is the way that it is and you can't stop it?"

At that point, he reached into his pocket, thumbing the tiny piece of parchment he had held there ever since he'd gotten it. Draco's engagement ring note. There was a stupid, painful twinge in his chest as he squeezed the faded shred in his palm, as if squeezing his own heart and all the twisted contents of it. It was the only part of the old Draco that he had left, not counting the ring of course, which he supposed he would have to return one way or another, but it was quickly falling apart due to his frequent scrutiny. He'd tried to savour it, to keep it safe and fresh and perfect, but he inevitably couldn't stop himself from going back to it every once in a while just so that he could feel _something _other than bitterness. And Harry supposed that was the way it would be with Draco, too. He'd never stop going back to him, no matter how hard he might try.

"So what are you going to do with the ring now?" Ron asked with uncharacteristic softness, as if trying not to disturb Harry in his thoughts.

Harry looked up at him sharply. "How did you know about that?" He hadn't told anyone about it, preferring to grieve his stupidity alone. But he couldn't even have that due to his own carelessness.

Ron bit his lip sheepishly. "You left the box on your dresser and I got curious," he confessed, before pausing. "Were you going to give it to him?"

Harry shook his head. "It was his. He gave it to me."

Hermione frowned. "I didn't know he'd proposed."

"He didn't."

His friends were quiet again, probably having suspected the trauma of the situation by now, and Harry was left to his own thoughts again. He'd been wondering for a while now why Draco had thrown the ring at him right before he'd taken the potion. Was it out of spite? Regret? Because Draco had to have known that any other time would have been more right than the one he'd chosen, but he'd done it anyways. It almost seemed like a sort of torture device, to let Harry know what he'd miss out on because of his actions. And it was a total Malfoy thing to do, if that's what he'd meant by it. But Harry assumed that he would never really know.

He stood up abruptly, surprising his friends a bit, and started heading towards his room. "I'm going back up to bed," he announced.

Even Hermione didn't protest it, though she knew that he would miss his classes, so Harry trudged upstairs, shedding his clothing carelessly and throwing himself onto his bed face-down. He wanted to sleep forever, to escape his miseries, but he was also afraid that they might follow him there. That he'd be trapped. Nightmares. He hadn't had any since the end of the war, but they had started up again over the past few days, for obvious reasons. Each time, they'd begin with him and Draco together, happy. In the end, it'd be just him.

And sometimes, because of that, it was easier for Harry to believe that Draco had _died, _instead of having forgotten. It was a terrible thought, and he was very ashamed that he had acquired it, but to him, dying seemed easier than forgetting. Because if Draco had died, he'd be completely and tangibly gone; and someday, Harry would _have_ to get over it. But when Draco forgot… Harry could still see him every day, but he couldn't touch him. He could still speak to him, but he couldn't _talk_ to him. And he could still love him, but Draco wouldn't love him back. He would always be just out of Harry's reach; close enough so that his fingertips could brush, but a bit too far to entirely grasp. It was sort of like a personal death, just for Harry's grief alone. And that was the worst kind of torture.

Harry reached over to his bed stand and pulled out a small, half-empty vial of Dreamless Sleep that had mysteriously shown up his bag a couple of days ago (he'd suspected it had been Snape, of all people, but the man would never confess to such a thing), downing the rest of it in one gulp and lying back against his pillow to wait for the effects of the potion to kick in. He wanted to escape to his ideal world, but he supposed that a dreamless world would be infinitely better than one without Draco. Because in a dreamless world, at least he couldn't hope at all.

**~x~**

When Harry woke up from his fitful (but dreamless) slumber, it was already late afternoon and he'd slept through all of his classes. It was the time of day when most students would lounge around before dinner, either at the library, outside, in the common rooms—whatever. He was actually quite surprised that no one was hanging out in the dorm, because Neville sometimes liked to sit in here and read, and Seamus had a stash of sweets hidden in his trunk to indulge in at times like these. But he supposed that it might've had something to do with his cloudy presence. Harry sighed and rolled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and grabbing around aimlessly for his clothing. Maybe he would go find Ron and Hermione, lay about in a sunny spot outside and try _not_ to think of his problems. Right.

_Easier said than done, _he mused, his eyes flickering over towards the dresser where the ring box still sat, tauntingly, in its place. Pulling on his trousers and robes, Harry hopped over to the dresser and picked the box up, tossing it in his hand lightly for a few moments before tucking it into the pocket of his robes. And after fussing with his hair fruitlessly for a few moments, he sighed and ducked out of the room, hoping to find his friends in the common room below. They weren't, so Harry supposed that they went outside, or to the library—although no doubt Ron would be complaining if that were the case.

He left Gryffindor Tower and ambled down the corridors that led out towards the grassy areas that he and his friends normally liked to sit in to finish a bit of homework. There were several students around, but none of them were his best friends. He continued to wander about though, and Harry's eyes immediately went over to a certain patch of grass he didn't visit anymore, the one by the Quidditch pitch that was slightly hidden by the trees; the very spot that he and Draco had first kissed. It was empty, of course, but Harry couldn't help imagining Draco sitting there now, waiting for him to join him.

"Oi, Potter!"

Harry whipped around at the sound of his name, finding Zabini sauntering over to him with his hands in his pockets and an expectant look on his face. He rolled his eyes. "Oh, Zabini. Or should I say, _lover_?"

Zabini had just enough grace to look a bit chagrinned. "Yeah... sorry about that. I was just checking something out. And guess what? My findings were positive."

Harry crossed his arms. This ought to be good. "Oh, and what were those?"

"Well first, Draco's not any less of a gullible arse than he had been when he was ill, and second, he's been a raging jealous mess ever since I told him that I was fooling around with you. Don't you see what that means? He still wants you."

"Right. And you've gathered all of that _how_?"

"Did you see the way he charged after you? I'm sure that's how you found out about my little stunt anyways," Zabini pointed out. "He's obviously bothered by it."

Harry snorted. "And why wouldn't he be? I would be annoyed too if, say, Hermione started going out with _you_!"

Zabini wrinkled his nose in mild disgust. "That's because you're a Gryffindor, and also, who said anything about _going out_? As far as he knows, you're still with Ginny and I'm just a fling."

"Oh, so I'm a friend-stealing bastard_ and_ a cheater now! Great, yeah, that's going to make him want me," Harry snapped sarcastically. "And when did this become the 'fool Draco' game? I'm not just going to sit here while you spin your little lies and stories!"

Zabini patted his shoulder. "Yes you will, because you're not smart enough to do otherwise. Besides, what were you planning on doing before, huh? Wallowing in your misery? Crying over your regret? Hello Potter, I am _trying_ to help you here. You could act a little more grateful."

Harry made a petulant face. He even stuck out his bottom lip a little. Well, fuck Zabini's good reasoning. Fuck his admittedly clever plan. And fuck him. _But not literally, _he thought, with slight horror. "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"For the love of Merlin, just let me handle it. I mean it. Don't do anything," the Slytherin warned. Harry rolled his eyes. Zabini obviously had no faith in Harry's acting skills, but he couldn't blame him. He'd always been a terrible liar. Everybody knew that.

"Hey Harry!" Hermione's voice called. Harry turned around to find Hermione and Ron coming towards them; Ron looking a little put out, albeit somewhat willing. "And Zabini," the brunette added after a while. Harry had to wonder whether or not the pair had been actually looking for him, or had just stumbled across him now. He supposed it was the latter.

"Hi Hermione, Ron," he greeted back, after a slight nod. Zabini just made a small noise of acknowledgement.

"How are you?" Hermione asked tentatively, peeking at both Harry and the still cool and judgmental Zabini with a bit of caution. Although Ron and Hermione had gotten along with the old Draco considerably well, his Slytherin friends had been a different story. Especially Zabini. They (Harry included) tended to stay away from the sly boy as much as possible, knowing that he was literally nothing but trouble.

"We're good," Harry said.

"And fucking each other," Zabini added casually.

"What?" both Ron and Hermione cried.

Harry shot a dirty look at Zabini, who was cackling behind his palm, and shook his head. _Trouble. _"He's just joking. Sort of. We're only fucking when Draco's around. You know," he mumbled.

"No, not really, but I honestly don't want to," Hermione remarked, letting him off with a weird look. "But Harry, I wanted to remind you about the—" she motioned to her finger, tapping it meaningfully.

Harry nodded. He knew that he had to let go of the ring sometime, but it still seemed much too soon. That ring was his permanent link to Draco. And for some reason, it almost felt like he were somehow throwing away the engagement, even though there hadn't been one to begin with. He took a gulp and reached into his pocket anyways, pulling out the box. "Zabini, I just wanted to give you this—"

"Potter! I'm honoured, really," the other boy butt in.

"—to give to _Draco_," Harry finished dryly, giving the Slytherin an eye-roll for good measure.

Zabini seemed to sober at that, peering at the box and frowning. "Wait, why are you—?"

"It's a long story, or not really but I don't want to talk about it, although in short, it's his ring and he doesn't know I have it so if you could just stick it back in his trunk or something, that'd be…" Harry trailed off, a lump forming in his throat that he wished would go away. "Anyways, just take it. And..." his fingers went to his pockets again, lingering there for a moment before pulling out the faded piece of parchment. "This. You can just throw it away or something. I can't do it."

His hands shook as he placed both items in Zabini's palms. Gods, why was this so hard for him? Draco was just a person. He was just a boy. Harry shook his head at the lies. Draco might be just a person, but he was a person that Harry had learned secrets from, had shared some of his own with; had comforted and was comforted by. And Draco might be just a boy, but he was a boy that Harry was falling more and more in love with each day. And that was not something that one just _forgets._ But in Draco's case, it was.

Harry buried his face in his hands, still shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I just…" he felt a warm arm go around his shoulder, and another one at his waist. He knew from the familiar scents that it was Ron and Hermione, but if he closed his eyes he could just pretend, for a second, that it was Draco.

After a while, Zabini cleared his throat. "Sorry to interrupt the moment but…" his voice went lower, "Draco-sighting at three o'clock."

Harry immediately jerked his head up, glancing about at both his friends and Zabini. He hadn't realised it before, but Merlin, they made an odd little group. Draco would probably be very suspicious already. He wiped his face and attempted to appear cheerful, although the stain of his cheeks would probably give him away in a heartbeat. Hopefully, he could just play it off as an allergy or something, if asked.

"You know what to do," Hermione said seriously now, although it seemed as if she were speaking more to Zabini than Harry. The other boy nodded cryptically.

Then both of Harry's friends started away quickly, and Harry looked at Zabini. The other boy nodded at him in encouragement. But Draco was coming over now, and Harry had begun to panic. "What do we—?"

"They're going to figure it out if you keep hanging around me like this," Zabini burst out suddenly, just loud enough for Draco to hear. Harry stared at him for a few moments. Zabini nudged Harry's arm a bit.

"Ah! Yes, um, sorry." The boy nudged him again. "It's okay, they won't. They don't suspect a thing," Harry answered lamely.

"Blaise," Draco announced now, his arms crossed and his gaze hard as he came up to them. "Why are you talking to Potty here?"

Harry was about to balk at the disliked nickname, but Zabini beat him. "You know why I'm talking to him," he stated, matter-of-factly.

"No, I don't. I see no_ sensible_ reason why you would be talking to this prat," Draco replied evenly, but Harry could see that he was quite wound up. He had to wonder whether or not Zabini had been right about the jealous thing. It seemed plausible at the moment, when Draco's expression was so scarily cool but his body language so rigid. But how could Draco be jealous if he didn't have feelings for Harry anymore?

"Well," Zabini looked around quickly, "let me show you."

Harry was quite confused by that statement until Zabini began to get dangerously close to his face, to which he yelped and turned, causing Zabini's mouth to brush his cheek in an extremely awkward manner. Harry almost cursed out loud. Damn it, Zabini had told him not to do anything, and he supposed that included moving away from a kiss. But the idea of kissing Zabini..._ ugh_. They stared at each other in surprise for a moment, before peeking back at Draco. Bad idea.

The boy looked undeniably livid now. "Zabini, let's go."

"But I—"

"We are_ leaving._"

Harry watched as Draco practically yanked Zabini away from him, both of them now stalking back towards the castle at a sort of panicked, hurried pace. Oh, Zabini was in for it now; Harry almost wished that he could observe the showdown. Because that look on Draco's face... well, it had been incredibly attractive. Harry absently wiped his cheek off with the back of his hand, not wanting to feel that bit of hope but feeling it anyway.

**~x~**

"What. The. _Fuck. _Was. That."

They were back in the Slytherin common room now; Blaise sitting on the couch and Draco pacing in front of it.

"I told you," Blaise replied calmly. "Potter and I are—"

Draco stopped and growled, cutting him off. Then he shook his head and continued to pace. Why was he so pissed off? Why had that small, not-even-slightly tender movement lit such a fire in him? Potter was not supposed to make him feel like that, yet he always seemed to do it anyways. Draco rubbed his forehead and sighed loudly. Potter was infuriating, no doubt. Why did he keep popping up like this?

"Draco, if you're jealous…"

"I am _not _jealous," he snapped.

"Okay, but if you were—"

"I'm _not!_"

"I wouldn't judge you for it," Blaise finished quickly, before Draco could cut him off again. Draco just stared at him.

"What?"

Blaise crossed his legs gracefully. "I know how you and Potter are, Draco. You have history; you have chemistry, blah blah, all the subjects. So I understand if my _frolicking _with him bothers you."

Draco frowned. That's what it was, wasn't it? He didn't like the idea of Potter being anybody's anything but his, because for some reason, Potter was his. His rival, no doubt, but still his. He sat down next to Blaise, now somewhat perplexed, and his friend patted his knee supportively.

"Don't be afraid to think outside the box," Blaise remarked with ambiguity, before getting up and heading upstairs.

Draco stared after him. What did that even mean? What did anything even mean anymore? He knew that it had only been almost a year that he'd missed of his life—so what could have possibly happened to create such a huge gaping hole in his chest? A hole, that seemed, to only distance him from everyone he ever thought he knew. A hole, which had mysteriously taken the place of where his heart should be, that was completely empty, and he had no idea what went inside of it.

So what was the price of remembering? To forget? To lose? It seemed like that was all he had done so far, since waking up to recall his accident. Draco understood that he'd never be normal again—although he wouldn't have called himself normal before—and he understood that there was always going to be things that would remain unexplained to him. And he'd thought he'd be okay with that, but he wasn't. He really wasn't.

Draco sat staring at nothing for ages and the students who passed him by did not bother him, although he was quite sure that they were still whispering rumours. He didn't care, not right now. It was only after the last of the lingering late-nighters had gone to bed that Draco finally opted to drag himself up to his dorm, mechanically changing and dressing for sleep. All of his room mates were already in bed with their curtains tightly shut, and Draco was about to crawl into his own when a light tap came from the window. He got up, letting in a small black school owl with a vial tied to its leg and giving it an affectionate scratch before untying the vial and sending it off again.

Draco peered at the bottle curiously, discovering a small scroll attached to the cap. He unscrewed it a bit, letting the parchment loose, and put the vial down on his bed. Unraveling the scroll, it read:

_Draco,_

_It isn't particularly my place to do this, but it isn't on my behalf, or for my benefit. Inside this vial is a collection of memories of you from this past year. Watch them, keep them for your own, whatever—but don't be afraid to think outside the box, especially when it concerns matters of the heart. We wish for the very best to you and your decisions._

The scroll wasn't signed, but the message intrigued Draco to no end. Who would send him this, and why? What sort of memories would they have, and would they be to his expectations? But right then, he realised that he didn't have time for questions. He needed answers. So with that and the knowledge of where Snape normally kept his Pensieve, Draco gripped the vial, suddenly rather alert. Whether or not this mystery person had actual representative memories of Draco's life for the past year, he didn't know. But he was going to find out.

**Author's Note: Whew. So what did you guys think of post-trauma Draco and Harry? Personally, I'm glad to have snarky Draco back, but sad Harry is not my absolute favorite to write. We all just want what's best for our boys. Let's just hope for the best! **

**So, topic. Let's see. What was your favorite Harry Potter film? Favorite book? Why? **

**My favorite film was Prisoner of Azkaban, because I actually love Sirius and the time-travel thing and it was the year that everybody started to go from adorable to attractive. And my favorite book is the same for the same reasons, although Deathly Hallows greatly competes with that (it has all the answers, who doesn't love that?) Ugh, sorry, I'm like brain-dead. It's 5 AM and I'm sitting here updating this fic. Do you guys love me yet?**

**Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter, and like I said before, there will probably only be one more. But who knows! All right, so I love you guys. A lot. And you know what else I love? Reviews. Though I still love you guys more.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: Holy crap guys, I'm _so _sorry. Honestly. I've always hated when authors would take forever to update and now I'm doing the same thing. I hope that this chapter makes up for my horribleness! Also, I highly recommend that you re-read the last chapter before reading this one (I've changed a few things, it may or may not be important for you to know them). I might even recommend you reread the entire thing, because some of the memories are dialogue-specific. Although I did try to make it apparent which memory it was. LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH OK. x**

***As for the memories, to clear up any uncertainty – when 'Memory-Draco' is referred to, it is the Draco inside of the memories. When it is just 'Draco', then it is the Draco that is _watching_ the memories. Hope that isn't too confusing!**

Chapter 18

Harry stared at the map, frowning. Turned it this way. Turned it that way. This had to be wrong. The area that he'd been staring at for the past hour had remained exactly the same for the entire time. It was bloody infuriating. But why?

"Merlin, Harry," Neville plopped down next to him on the bed. "You've been ogling that thing for a really long time now. What's so interesting?"

Harry didn't take his eyes away from the map. "I just… I mean, it's probably nothing, but Draco's been pacing around the dungeons for a while now, and not the part of the dungeons that the Slytherin common room is located in. I mean, I would know, I've been there. Isn't that strange? It's probably nothing though," he repeated.

Neville let out a bellowing laugh. "Honestly, mate," he reached forward and patted Harry's knee. "He's a Slytherin. It's not particularly strange for him to wander around his own territory. And besides, what could he possibly get up to that would be so bad?"

Harry bit his lip. "I don't know. I just don't want him to do anything rash or stupid that would get him in trouble, or worse... _hurt_."

"Calm down, he's a big boy. And anyways, I'm pretty sure the 'rash and stupid' card is your thing, not his… No offence," Neville said quickly.

Harry's smile was bitter. "You'd be surprised how alike we are."

Neville pursed his lips and leaned back, plucking the map from Harry's fingers and setting it aside. Harry started to protest, but Neville stopped him. "If you're so concerned about him, Harry, why don't you go talk to him? You obviously know where he is."

"What? You know I can't." Harry looked down at his hands. Neville took one of them and squeezed it.

"And why can't you?"

"Well, Snape said…"

Neville snorted. "Since when have you ever given a damn—excuse my language—what Snape says? No, that's not the problem. How about a different question, hm? Why are you holding yourself back?"

Harry frowned. "Listen, Nev, I know you care about me and all, but I can't go and fuck everything up for Draco over the fact that I'm concerned about what he's been doing in the dungeons for an hour. It's just not fair. He's got a right to do whatever he wants down there, you said so yourself."

"Bollocks. It's so much more than that, and you know it."

Harry sighed. He didn't want to admit it, but Neville had a point. He _was _holding himself back. And he might keep telling himself that it was because of Snape, or because he was protecting Draco, but honestly, that wasn't completely it. Because if he were to be truly honest, he'd have to admit that maybe he was protecting himself, just a little bit. From getting hurt again. He didn't think he could take it if Draco rejected him now.

Neville seemed to see right through him. "You know, he's never going to come back if you just sit here and wallow in your own suffering. And he's not going to _know_ to come back, since all you've done is stalk him on the map—and I know that's all you've done, don't try to lie to me, Harry Potter... He'd be yours again in a snap if you'd just_ try_."

Harry shook his head. "You don't know that. And who says that I want him to come back? Maybe it's better that he moves on."

"You're lying to yourself. You've got to open your eyes, mate. Then maybe you'd see that everything you love about him is still in there; it never left. I promise. It's just going to be a little harder to find this time around."

Harry tried to take a deep breath, but there was a lump in his throat. "How did you know?"

"You've always loved him," Neville rolled his eyes. "But you never tried, never bothered to do anything about it before. And it took a near-death experience and severe memory loss for you to actually do it. But honestly, Harry, why make the same mistake again? Maybe I don't know, but I know that you do, to some extent. If you give up on him now, you'll never figure it all out."

Harry was quiet for a moment. Then he reached up and ruffled the top of Neville's head, the way he used to when they were a lot younger and infinitely more naïve. Or at least, when Neville was.

"When did you get so insightful?" he asked softly.

"When I realised that I can't always let you be your own hero," Neville answered, with typical gentleness. "Especially when you're the one who needs to be saved this time."

Harry leaned over and hugged his friend tightly, and Neville hugged him back because he surely knew that he needed it.

"Wise as Merlin himself," Harry teased.

"Wiser," Neville corrected, and Harry laughed.

He loved Ron and Hermione, but sometimes it was nice to get advice from somebody who wasn't disinclined to tell him the harsh truth. Now that he had both sides of the advice spectrum, the decision was entirely up to Harry.

**~x~**

"But why _not_?" Draco demanded; his arms folded across his chest in defiance.

Snape rubbed his forehead tiredly. "I told you, Draco. I am not going to let you use the Pensieve if you refuse to explain why you wish to use it. It is not a difficult task to grant."

Draco scowled. _It is if I'm blatantly disobeying your orders, _he countered silently. Merlin, this was going to be a lot harder than he'd expected. He'd gone to see Snape as soon as he possibly could, but then he realised that he had no idea what he would tell the man. If Draco confessed that he'd gotten a vial from an anonymous person about his past, the most he'd receive would probably be a lecture, and then Snape would take it away for sure, and with that, all of his hopes for remembering. He had had to think quickly, and attempting to be clever, Draco tried to play it off as a school assignment. But the professor clearly wasn't buying it.

"I am simply asking for your permission to get an education, sir," Draco pleaded sarcastically. "You wouldn't want me to fail, would you?"

"Of course not._ I_ am simply asking for details."

Now Draco wanted to rub his own temples, though in frustration. "Never mind," he muttered, turning to leave. He'd find a way to get into Snape's quarters on his own, although he might need to get some extra assistance on that one (perhaps Pansy?). He wasn't a Slytherin for_ nothing_, after all.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape called out.

Draco paused. "What?"

Snape smirked, as if reading his mind. "Don't even think about it."

Draco scowled again. Damn it. He walked away more briskly now, not really quite sure where he'd go. He'd spent almost an hour (or maybe more?) arguing with Snape, basically wasting away his whole afternoon. "Loads of success that got me," he announced out loud. Nobody heard him, or perhaps paid any attention to him. But he suspected the first option because one did not just ignore Draco Malfoy, especially when he was mumbling to himself in the middle of the corridor.

Draco shook his head and reluctantly headed towards the library, not knowing where else to go. The evening was still young, but he didn't feel like participating in any frivolities tonight; anyways it would be futile to do so, since he was essentially branded an outcast in his own House. He shook his head again. Traitors. Not that he really cared all that much. Who needed friends anyway?

Once he arrived at his destination, he went straight towards the back tables, hidden by the bookshelves, by some kind of internal instinct. This was odd, since Draco normally liked to sit at the front of the library where everybody could see him and how superiorly intelligent he was, but then again, that was before. He shrugged. Maybe that wasn't how he did things for the past year. How should he know?

Sighing, he sat down at the furthest one, pulling out a small parchment from his bag and smoothing it out on the table in front of him. It was the note that had been attached to the vial. Hmm. He read it again and again, analysing every word in attempt to figure out whom it was from and why they would send it. So far, he'd gotten nothing; except for that the person was clearly unwilling to share their identity, due to the ambiguity and obvious failure to leave a name. Perhaps they were not close to him? Another interesting factor was the use of the word 'we', with what he figured it was possible there was more than one person involved. Curious.

He took out the vial now, studying it closely before popping open the cap and peering inside. Swirls of blue and silver met his eyes, and he frowned. They were memories, yes, that much was discernible. But some were different shades of blue, lighter, and some strands were thinner than others. So they were mixed memories, Draco inferred. Now he was certain that there was more than one person in this game, because the memories had to be from at least—he peeked at it again—four or five different people. Perhaps more. But why? And _who_?

Before Draco could stress about it more, there was a rustle from the side of a bookshelf and he immediately glanced up, startled. Then he rolled his eyes. Lo and behold, there was Potter with his back to Draco, his bag having brushed against the bookshelf by mistake. It looked as if he had been trying to escape unnoticed. Draco almost snorted. Nice job, as per usual.

"Honestly, Potter. If you wanted to sit in this area, don't let me stop you," he snapped. "I was just leaving, anyways."

Potter turned his head a little, and slowly the rest of his body followed. He looked puzzled. "Why are you even back here anyways?" he asked. "Don't you usually sit closer to the door?"

"Gee, I didn't realise you paid such close attention to lowly little me. That's so sweet, really. I could hurl. But perhaps I wanted a change for once, you know what I mean?"

Potter frowned as if he were about to say something in retaliation, but then his gaze flicked down towards the parchment and vial in front of Draco and he was silenced. Shit. Draco had forgotten about them there. He tried to hide it with his hands, but Potter had already seen what they were. His frown grew deeper.

"What's that?"

"None of your damn business."

Potter shook his head, as if reminding himself that right, it wasn't any of his damn business. "Whatever."

Draco shoved the vial and the parchment in his bag then stood up abruptly, the noise causing Potter to jump a little. He smirked. "Well, aren't you going to sit down? Or do you have something else to say?"

Potter opened his mouth a bit, and then closed it. And opened it again. Closed it. It reminded Draco of a fish. Finally, Potter spoke. "Malfoy, I…"

"Draco!"

Both Draco and Potter turned around to find Blaise leaning against a bookshelf, a playful smirk on his face. "Not trying to hit on my man, are you?" he asked, throwing an arm over Potter's shoulder.

Draco tensed. Gods, how he hated that. And how he _hated _that he hated that. He grit his teeth, attempting to maintain a pleasant expression. "No, quite the opposite, in fact. I'm about to head out."

Blaise raised his eyebrows; his plastered smile rather catlike. "Right then, you should be on your way. Potter and I have some… _studying_ to do."

Draco rolled his eyes, and he couldn't help but notice Potter doing the same, although he was trying to be discreet about it. Why would Potter be unimpressed by Blaise's antics if he was so into the other boy? And how come Ginny Weasley wasn't all over his case about it? A lot of the pieces of the puzzle didn't fit together, especially now that he was regaining his senses. But why should he question it? It wasn't_ his_ life.

"Sure," he said, keeping his tone light and bored. But as he grabbed his bag, the parchment slipped out and fell on the floor by Potter's feet. Draco quickly bent down to get it, though not before Blaise saw it. He tried to ignore his friend's inquisitive look and instead peered up at Potter, who was staring down at him. His expression was odd and his mouth twisted a bit, as if biting something back; those emerald eyes seemed to speak volumes. _That look, _Draco thought, absently, _why is it so bloody familiar? Constant, even._

Haunted, he tore away from them only to glance at Blaise, who was staring at the parchment in his hands. Then at Potter. And then at him. Something seemed to click.

"Draco," Blaise said, softly, as if expecting a certain answer. But Draco didn't know what to say. There was a long pause. Then, as if realising that nothing was going to happen, Blaise snapped out of his strange mood and grinned at Potter. "Well, let's not let him spoil all the fun," he remarked, before placing his hand on the back of Potter's neck and tugging his face forward into a proper kiss.

Potter made a small noise of surprise, but he didn't pull away, and Draco didn't blame him. He watched their lips dance, as if discovering something new and delicious, nipping and pressing and tasting with slow, languid rhythm. It was not a half-arsed kiss. It was insane. It was _beautiful_. It was doing… horrible things to his heart… Painful...

Oh gods, perhaps it was _shattering_! Draco looked down at the floor and breathed heavily, in a baffled panic.

He didn't know why, but everything seemed to unravel from that point, a point where he was slowly losing his mind. But how much more could he lose? Memories, memories, memories—what were they? Clever devices to plunge through his heart and dive into the depths and crevices, only to betray him in moments like these? He'd always thought that he was imperturbable; invincible after all the things he'd survived, so how come he was falling apart now? Never in his entire life had he ever felt so disoriented and horrified and _hurt_. What was it about Potter that kept him so damn _weak_?

All he could figure was that he needed to get the fuck away before he fell apart right there on the library floor. Without another word, Draco jumped up and sprinted for the exit, not caring that it seemed rash and stupid. Not caring that he probably looked like a wretched mess, or that maybe his chest was about to explode with feelings that he didn't understand. Because why? _Why? _

**~x~**

Harry pushed away from Zabini immediately, an intense rush of guilt and dismay spreading through him as Draco stumbled out of the library. Oh gods. It was sort of like the feeling he used to get whenever Draco had a particularly bad vision or nightmare, but this time, he couldn't be there to comfort him afterwards. Because now, Harry was Draco's nightmare. He shuddered involuntarily.

Zabini seemed to sense his distress and stepped away to create more space between them. "Now do you understand?" he murmured gently, perhaps the most subdued Harry had ever heard him.

Harry covered his face with his fingers. "I made him fall apart."

Zabini put a hand on his shoulder and he glanced up. The Slytherin's expression was very serious. "Then go put him back together," he answered, as if it were the easiest thing in the world to do.

Harry took a deep breath and shook his head. "I don't know if I can."

"Well, the first step," Zabini motioned towards the exit, "is to go after him."

It had to be worth something. Harry whirled around, dashing out of the library and ignoring Madam Pince's dirty looks. He ran through endless corridors, heading down towards the dungeons before he could even question it. A snake always retreats to his lair, or at least, this snake had; he remembered just how many times he had had to come down here to make amends with the other boy. Draco may have suffered great memory loss, but he was still predictable enough. As Harry came nearer to the Slytherin common room, he could hear slight gasps coming from the closest corridor. They were definitely Draco's. But then he paused, listening for a moment. Whispers. Draco wasn't alone.

"Shh, shh, Draco, what's wrong?" Harry realised it was Pansy Parkinson.

"I don't know," Draco mumbled; his voice was low and scratchy. "I honestly don't know."

"I'm sorry." Pansy seemed to quiet for a moment, perhaps to give Draco a hug. Or maybe Slytherins didn't do hugs? Harry didn't know. "I know that it's been difficult for you. I wish I could make it all go away."

A sniffle. "It's been _more_ than difficult, but you _can_ help me. You can tell me what the hell is wrong with me. Why nobody tells me what's going on anymore. And I feel like I've been asleep forever, like a child, a fucking outcast every second of the day! I don't know who anybody is anymore," a choked noise. "I don't even know who_ I_ am."

Harry's heart cracked open, but he couldn't force himself to move forward and expose himself. Somehow, he knew that it would be a bad choice. Even though he might have done it before Draco took the potion, the Slytherin had an entirely different attitude now, and especially towards him. If Harry butt in, he may never understand. Draco would close himself off like a brick wall and shut Harry down forever. So he stayed put.

Pansy had paused for a long time. There was a shuffle of shoes against the stone floor. "You know I can't, Draco," she apologised softly. "It isn't my place."

"Then who's place is it?" he asked, now bitter.

Another tense pause.

"Pansy, please," Draco pleaded. "I can't do this anymore. I need help."

Her gasp was audible, and even Harry, from this place, raised his eyebrows in surprise. This was an extreme act of desperation. It was common knowledge that Draco rarely ever asked for help. From anyone. And right now, he was practically begging for it.

So naturally, Pansy gave in. "Harry Potter," she all but whispered, making it sound like it was an apology.

Draco made a strangled noise. Harry heard the sound of shoes again and then fabric scratching against a wall. He wondered if Draco was sliding down it, or if that would be too cliché. "I knew it," Draco murmured, as if to himself. "It's _always_ him."

Pansy sighed like she had something to add to that, but after a few moments, she supposedly decided not to. "He's the only one who can give you answers."

Now it was Draco's turn to stay silent. Harry desperately wanted to know what was going through his head. Did Draco _want_ answers? He had to work to strain his ears when the boy finally uttered his next words, his tone scarily determined. "No, he's not."

Harry frowned, but he didn't have time to analyse that last sentence because Draco had stood up sometime during that silence and now the two Slytherins were heading his way. Swearing quietly, Harry yanked his cloak out of his robe pocket and threw it over himself just in time for Draco and Pansy to round the corner.

Draco's face was slightly pink, but the colour was starting to fade and the pained expression Harry had seen earlier in the library had vanished. His blond hair flew around his face in shiny wisps and the grey eyes flashed with spirit. Harry's breath caught. It seemed that every time he looked at Draco, he was reminded of everything that was absolutely beautiful about the boy. And it wasn't always physical.

Without thinking, Harry closed his eyes. "I miss you, Draco," he murmured.

The other boy stopped abruptly.

"Who's there?" he asked out loud. His eyes began to search the area wildly and he stepped closer to where Harry was. _Shit, he'd heard!_ Harry slapped a hand over his mouth and tried not to breathe as Pansy stared right at him.

"I'm serious," Draco announced again, voice now getting shaky. He was obviously terrified that someone had overheard his conversation. "Who the _fuck _is there?"

Harry tilted his head a little, taking his hand off his mouth and reaching it out towards Draco instead. The hard expression made the lines of his face severe, but Harry could still see the shimmering flecks of silver floating around in those eyes, revealing all that the owner never could. He really wished that he could tell Draco the truth. He did. But to be honest, he didn't think that Draco would believe him.

Almost wistfully, he reached his hand out further, so far that the soft fabric of the cloak brushed lightly against Draco's cheek. The boy stepped back in shock. He stared right at Harry, eyes wide and suspicious, but suspicious of what, Harry couldn't say.

Pansy grabbed Draco's arm. "Come on, let's get out of here," she urged, glancing at him and invisible Harry a couple of times. Harry was rather sure that she realised he was there.

White as a sheet, Draco complied, although he still appeared as if he'd seen a ghost. The two of them continued down the hallway until they were out of sight, and then Harry allowed himself to breathe and think properly. Eerily enough the sound of Draco's choked voice, laced with misery and bewilderment, wouldn't leave his mind. And to some extent, he knew that it was his fault Draco was like that. Harry closed his eyes. Maybe he'd been going about this whole thing the wrong way. Maybe he needed to stop thinking about himself and just let Draco _go_. Because maybe then, Draco wouldn't hurt like this anymore.

**~x~**

Draco sat very still in the Potions classroom, staring off at a wall. Class had not begun yet and students were ambling in at a relaxed pace. He was quiet, alone, his workstation already set up and ready to go with the day's assigned potion ingredients. It was just like the old days. He knew everything by heart; he'd kept his pristine notes in hand. But he couldn't help but think that he'd trade it all in just to remember five minutes of the past year. Just to understand why he felt like this _all the time_.

It hurt. At least he could admit it now. Despite himself, Draco kept his eyes trained at the wall even as the room filled up and Snape entered from his lab. By the time class had started, Draco knew that everybody was in the classroom and seated… and yet, he was still alone. Gods, life was rather dreary when everybody you knew was either laughing at you or afraid of you. Or both.

Sighing, he finally looked away from the wall and down at his notes, glancing at the words carelessly and setting up his ingredients in the arrangement for which he would need them. It was an old routine; he'd grown tired of it, but it was necessary. In the back of his mind he could vaguely hear Snape's sharp orders, but why listen? It wasn't like he needed the instruction. He was exceptionally bright, brighter than anybody else in the class. And so Draco didn't fully register anything until Snape's barking resulted in his name.

"Mr. Malfoy!"

His head snapped up.

"Yes, professor?" he inquired politely, mechanically.

"Did you hear what I just said?"

"I, uh… Well no, professor."

Snape studied him for a moment, as if contemplating pity. He rolled his eyes on second thought. "Very well then. Mr. Potter, you will pack up and move to Mr. Malfoy's station instead."

Draco knit his eyebrows. Since when had Potter been in this class? Most of the Gryffindors in their year hadn't gotten in, and Draco didn't remember him being here before. Oh, never mind. He tried not to grimace as Potter slowly gathered his things together and moved over to the lonely workstation in the very back, away from all the others. Isolation. Gods, Draco was still experiencing the reeling effects his last encounter with Potter gave him, he really didn't need more. For some reason, it felt as if the whole room was holding its breath. Or maybe it was just him.

Potter set his bag down and sat, folding his arms over the table and tilting his chin slightly towards Draco without looking at him. He didn't seem bothered by the location, rather, he was adamantly staring at the board for directions. Draco stared. Why couldn't he shake him?

After Snape bid them good luck (although he probably hadn't meant it), Draco picked up the ingredients silently, hoping that Potter would just let him do all of the work and keep quiet. But after a few moments, Potter was invading his personal space, his finger pointed at something in Draco's notes.

"What does that say right there? Is that a five or an 's'?"

Draco gulped, suddenly intoxicated by Potter's woodsy, boyish scent. It was disorienting and... _familiar_. Had Potter smelled like that before? He tried to ignore it. "What, do you think the potion calls for 's' newt eyes? Use your fucking brain for once, Potter."

"I would if you had used a fucking functional quill," the Gryffindor muttered. Draco pretended he hadn't heard, and Potter thankfully moved away. Draco let out a relieved sigh, breathing properly again without feeling the need to attack Potter... or whatever.

They worked tersely for another ten minutes, not speaking or interacting unless the other needed something. The entire time, Draco felt as if Potter was holding back on him somehow, although he didn't know why that was. Normally by now, the Gryffindor would have found something unsatisfactory about Draco's high expectations or leadership skills and they would argue endlessly, leaving both feeling snappy and irritated for the remainder of class. But no, Potter was hushed. Reserved. But then again, he had been acting that way since Draco had woken up from the Hospital Wing. And why was that?

Of course, Pansy _had_ said that Potter was the one that Draco needed to consult, so the boy must have been linked to him somehow during his lost year. But still, it couldn't be a very sensible idea. What could Potter possibly give him that he couldn't get from somebody else? Besides, Boy Wonder wasn't the_ only_ option he had. Draco patted his pocket to make sure the vial was still there. It had to work. Because to be completely honest, his conflicted feelings and emotions for Potter scared the shit out of him, and he really didn't have the time or patience to figure them out anyways. If he had, he would have done it a long time ago.

"Malfoy," Potter said suddenly, and Draco was pulled out of his thoughts.

"What?" he snapped.

"Do you need some help with that?" Draco frowned. How did Potter know? Could he read minds too? Merlin, he really _was_ a Boy Wonder! But then he noticed that the other boy was gesturing down at his roots. "With the slicing. You still have a lot left."

_Oh. Never mind. _Draco shook his head. "No," he muttered. Potter shrugged and moved away again.

They completed the rest of the potion without another word, turning it into Snape early and going back to the station to sit in their seats. Unfortunately, that meant more awkward silences. Draco stared at the wall again, unwilling to start anything or even pretend to make taunting or teasing small talk.

But after a long time Potter spoke again, and his words astonished Draco. "Do you hate me?"

Draco turned his head slowly. "Excuse me?"

Potter cleared his throat. "Do you hate me still?"

Draco's mind reeled as he studied Potter closely, focusing on his eyes to try and keep himself from spiraling down into insanity again. They were surprisingly warm and lovely again, despite the vibrancy of the green, and there was something in them that had Draco stumped for an answer. When had he seen that before? _It was almost as if..._ He frowned.

"Malfoy?" Potter asked.

Draco closed his eyes and tried to find comfort inside of his own mind instead, but he discovered that it was much too jumbled and endless to attempt. So he gave up. "I don't know," he told Potter, truthfully.

Potter looked genuinely staggered. "Why not?"

Draco didn't know where the words were coming from, but he felt that they were authentic. Although he didn't quite understand why he was being authentic with Harry Potter, or otherwise. "Because I don't know about a lot of things anymore," he confessed quietly.

Potter's gaze softened even more, if that was possible. "Don't think about—"

The bell rang, cutting off the boy's words, and suddenly a group of his friends and admirers were at his side. "Come on, let's get out of here," one of them urged, pulling Potter's arm. He appeared slightly afraid to be in Draco's presence. Potter tried to fight him for a moment, but then appeared to have given up and shot Draco a rare look of apology. He grabbed his bag and let the others lead him out of the room, out where the most important thing at the moment was what was on the menu for lunch.

Draco sat there, stunned_. Baffled._ Harry Potter had just had a conversation with him. He had asked Draco if he still hated him, and had been willing to add in something of his own. Wasn't that peculiar? Draco hadn't even been aware that Potter _cared_. But evidently, he did. And the look on his face when he'd said Draco's name… he shuddered. It was real. It was undeniable.

He sighed. Gods, this thing was really getting to him. Wasn't it simpler back in the days when he'd call Potter a little attention-grabbing shit and they'd beat each other's arses? Back when everything he did was simply a part of a hasty competition? Back when an enemy was just an enemy and there were no clouded in betweens? Back before that bludger had knocked it all out of him?

But even he knew that was a lie. Draco couldn't fool himself any longer; there had been no such 'back when's. Something about Potter continued to reel him back in, time and time again, from the very beginning. He could recall a prissy little blond boy, long ago, who only wanted a chance. He hadn't gotten it, but maybe he still could. Because now he realised that there had _always_ been a clouded in between, he'd always had that tiny bit of him that wanted something bigger with Potter. Draco knew that he wouldn't be able to get him out of his head. He never had. But still, he didn't understand _why_. What was the price? What was the reason? Why had he thrown himself in the arms of Death to save his worst enemy in the first place?

Draco shook his head frantically, reaching into his pocket and gripping the precious vial tight. He didn't want to think about it anymore. Glancing around the room to make sure no one was around, he bit his lip and took the vial out to clutch it. Everybody had gone to lunch, even Snape. It was now or never.

Still cautious, he crept over to Snape's lab and pressed his ear to the door. Nothing. And to his surprise, the handle turned easily and let him in, as if expecting him. Perhaps Snape had changed his mind? Well, Draco didn't know, or care. The Pensieve sat in the back of the room, large and dusty, indicating that it had been unused for a while. Draco rolled the vial in his palm and took a deep breath.

This was it. This was moment he'd been waiting for. Now he wouldn't have to go to Potter for memory help. He wouldn't have to think about his perplexing feelings for Potter or why everything became muddled or confusing around him. He wouldn't have to go to Potter ever again, if he chose not to (although surely this would never be the case). Now Draco uncorked the vial and poured the shimmering contents into the Pensieve, the whole pond of it lighting up brilliantly. The memories swirled around like miniature fish, darting this way and that, too quickly to count. He closed his eyes, took another breath, and dove into his past.

**~x~**

**~x~**

"_Potter!" _

_Draco glances around and discovers that the distant yell is coming from the clouded morning sky. It is eerily familiar. Blaise Zabini frowns and turns to Pansy Parkinson, who is sitting next to him. "Did you hear that?" he asks. "That sounded like Draco." Suddenly, there is a loud, sickeningly audible crack. Draco looks up to see what it is. A small figure in Slytherin green falls from the mist; another figure in red swoops down and catches him. _

_It is Potter and… Draco. Memory-Draco. He is bleeding profusely, unconscious as Potter brings him back down to earth and frets over his mangled body. Draco stares at himself for a long moment, almost unable to comprehend that he is dying right in front of his own eyes._

_**~x~**_

_**~x~**_

_The scene changes. Blaise is standing by the common room when Potter and a dazed post-accident Memory-Draco approach him. He argues with Potter for a bit before Memory-Draco tells him that he wants Potter there. Then he calls Potter 'Harry'. He also tells Blaise that he thinks that Potter is fit! Obviously, Memory-Draco's head had been messed with from his injury. He doesn't remember anything from his years at Hogwarts. Draco is horrified by this, and he is cringing by the time Blaise has finished recounting the war._

_**~x~**_

_**~x~**_

_The Gryffindor table is already buzzing with commotion despite the early hour._

"_You already know who I am?" _

"_Yes, I saw you in my vision."_

_Ginny Weasley is sitting at the Gryffindor table, seemingly uncomfortable and wary of Memory-Draco, who stands in front of her and Potter. Memory-Draco is glaring at her unapologetically. Apparently, he has not forgotten his hatred for her, or perhaps has found a new motive. Draco can almost feel the waves of hostility coming off of the two of them. For some reason, it feels like competition._

_**~x~**_

_**~x~**_

_Another shift. Potter barges into the Slytherin common room and yet again interrupts Blaise's reading time. Since when does he know how to get in here? Blaise sighs. "He's had a vision," Potter says, after some initial blabber. "A memory of 2nd year."_

_Draco frowns... they are talking about him. This isn't just an ordinary case of amnesia. Memory-Draco is reliving his own horrible memories._

_**~x~**_

_**~x~**_

_It is a Hogsmeade week-end. Pansy sits in a booth in the Three Broomsticks, accompanied by Blaise, Memory-Draco, Potter, and Potter's girlfriend. The girlfriend glares at Pansy, she grins evilly back. Ugh, Memory-Draco is so obviously infatuated with Potter, Draco notes with bitterness. Why can't he be more discreet? After a few tense comments, Potter's girlfriend begins to insult Memory-Draco, and to Draco's surprise, Potter stands up for him. She leaves. Potter stays._

_**~x~**_

_**~x~**_

_The throttle of blaring music and sweaty bodies surrounds Draco like a clingy wet blanket. It is a scene he's never seen before and he hardly recognises the area. Hermione Granger is pushing her way through the party for a quiet place to sit. Eventually she finds a dark corner filled with little couches, obviously for couples, but she has lost Weasley in the sea of people. Draco glances around as she does, and their eyes meet the same sight at the same time. _

_Memory-Draco is buried in Potter's arms, sobbing and shaking as if completely shut down. It hurts to look at. And then Draco quickly realises that they are in the Room of Requirement. Of course. Memory-Draco's had a bad vision, and although Draco cannot hear what the two boys are saying, he has a pretty good idea of what it is. But Hermione has decided to leave them alone._

_**~x~**_

_**~x~**_

_The Gryffindor common room; Draco has never been here before. A few boys are spread out on the couches and tables, and they are all pissed. Even Neville Longbottom is a bit tipsy. Okay, a lot tipsy. He is laughing and joking with his friends when Potter shows up. The handsome boy is upset about something, but soon he joins the game they are playing and gets as drunk as everybody else. And that's when Potter tells his friends that he would snog Draco. _

_What the fuck? Draco almost dies on the spot, and evidently his Memory-self does the same thing. He has been spying, but due to his loud crash, Potter discovers him. The rest of the Gryffindors go upstairs, but Neville comes down later to check on his friend and Memory-Draco. He finds the two cuddled together on the couch._

**_~x~_**

**_~x~_**

_Ginny is angry with Potter. More than angry, she is livid. As she glares at him, Draco notices that she is beautifully made up but also tragically hurt from something Potter has done. But the dolt obviously has no clue. Books on amnesia, seemingly for Memory-Draco's benefit, surround him. It appears that he has been studying for hours._

"_All you think about is him!" she yells. "I always come second to him!"_

_Draco realises that she is talking about Memory-Draco. He doesn't know exactly when his and Potter's relationship had come to this point, but Potter doesn't deny it. He and Ginny break up, but after a while she is not angry with Potter anymore. Rather, she is relieved. And for some reason, so is Draco._

_**~x~**_

_**~x~**_

_Outside the castle, Pansy watches Memory-Draco and Potter sit on the grass together. They both seem nervous. But then they get closer; suddenly they are kissing. The kiss is not short and it is not an accident. Draco gasps and stumbles backwards, bewildered. Kissing Potter? How far gone is Memory-Draco? Pansy seems amused by it, however. She grins and fumbles with a mobile phone, obviously ready to send a message._

_**~x~**_

_**~x~**_

_Hermione glares at Memory-Draco, who looks uncharacteristically terrified of her. She has figured out his feelings for Potter and she yells at him for taking advantage of her best friend. Memory-Draco denies it and defends himself brazenly. Judging by the expression on his own face, Draco can tell that he is absolutely serious._

"_Who are you?" she asks, after a while._

"_I'm Draco Mal—"_

_She cuts him off. "No you're not. The Draco Malfoy I know only does things for himself. He hates Harry and Ron and me, and he'd never spend time with any of us. He doesn't give a damn about what Harry thinks of him and he'd rather die than admit that Harry means anything to him! So tell me, who the hell are you?"_

_Draco realises that she is right. This is exactly how he had treated Potter before. But it is obvious that Memory-Draco regrets it, and Draco has to wonder whether he does too._

_**~x~**_

_**~x~**_

_Ron Weasley walks into the library with Granger, bickering with her while they look for Potter. The two of them search around until they catch Potter and Memory-Draco at a back table, holding hands. And as Memory-Draco gets up to leave, he leans in and kisses Potter on the cheek, although it appears that they are joking. Potter responds with a kiss on the nose. Well, it is all a bit too domestic for his taste, but Draco can't help but wish that he could at least remember how that felt. And he is also starting to get used to the idea of kissing Potter. _

_**~x~**_

_**~x~**_

_Hermione watches but doesn't say anything as Potter and Memory-Draco signal each other good-bye with their fists to their chests. She and Weasley confront Potter later on, and he admits that he and Memory-Draco are finally together. Finally!_

_He is speaking. "I know that you think that Draco and I are a bad idea, but I want you to understand that I can't turn away from him now. The moment I agreed to help him—I was lost… Draco is… Draco is everything."_

_Oh... well. Potter's eyes are earnest and warm. As if in a trance, Draco realises that these are the eyes that he's seen before; Potter must have looked at him like that sometime during his illness. Maybe he looked at him like that all of the time. _

_But he also realises that Potter still looks at him like that._

_**~x~**_

_**~x~**_

_Ron is worried. Potter is sulking much more nowadays, and all he talks about is Memory-Draco's reluctance to open up about his flashbacks. Apparently, the visions from fifth and sixth year have begun and Memory-Draco is getting a taste of the real thing. Draco winces when he hears the Gryffindors' recount of Memory-Draco's latest breakdown. He doesn't know if he is strong enough to go through it again, but he hopes that Potter is able to handle the storm._

_**~x~**_

_**~x~**_

_Pansy worries about her friend's happiness, and right now Memory-Draco is devastated. His condition has gotten worse with each new terrifying vision, but Snape's altered potion can make it all go away. Only problem is, he will lose his memories from this year if he decides to take the potion to 'cure' him. So he will lose Potter._

"_Do you love him?" she asks._

_Memory-Draco claims that he doesn't know. But he is flushed and he rambles and it is entirely uncharacteristic for any Malfoy. Draco knows this behaviour all too well. He's seen it once—in his mother's memory of their wedding vows, Lucius is a mess. He is a fool. Because that's what love does to a Malfoy; it renders him unprepared and vulnerable, insane enough to try something he'd never risk before. And that's how Draco is certain that Memory-Draco loves Potter._

_By now, Memory-Draco has figured it out as well. "I love Harry Potter!" he exclaims loudly, for the entire common room to hear. Oh. Now Draco knows why Daphne Bintgrass was laughing at him. _

_**~x~**_

_**~x~**_

_Draco finds himself in the Gryffindor common room once again._

"_You love him," Hermione tells Potter. They are sitting across from each other._

_Potter looks angry, and then pained. He is quiet for a long time. "So what if I do," he practically rasps. __Draco's heart feels as if it is about to burst. He loves him back. Still, why does Potter continue to love him even though he knows it will hurt so terribly?_

_After that, Potter blows up at Hermione several more times, but it is clear that his frustration doesn't lie with her. And soon, he is begging for her help. He is so desperate that he's close to crying._

"_I'm sorry, Harry," she says. She cannot help him, but she does look sorry. _

"_I'm not strong enough," Potter whispers. Gods, and what those four words do to Draco's heart. __He knows for sure that he isn't either._

_**~x~**_

_**~x~**_

_Neville is concerned. Potter hasn't come out of the dorm for hours. "Just go talk to him, mate," he calls out. There is no answer. Rumour has it that Memory-Draco had taken the potion, despite their mutual love. And while he was unconscious, Potter had perched himself in the Hospital Wing, refusing to leave until the other boy woke up safe. When he had, Potter fled, and he has not left his chambers since then._

_That much Draco remembers. He wonders why Memory-Draco had decided to take the potion after all. It isn't easy to say. __But from the distressed look on Neville's face, he can infer that Memory-Draco had never known that Potter loved him. Draco doubts anyone truly did. Potter bottles things up even more than he does._

_**~x~**_

_**~x~**_

"_You can just throw it away or something. I can't do it."_

_Draco recognises this area. They are outside the castle; Potter hands Blaise a small box and a scrap piece of parchment. Blaise stares in amazement as Potter begins to get emotional and his friends surround him. Because Harry Potter never breaks like this._

_Before long, Draco sees himself stalking towards them and now he understands why he so easily recognised the place and time. It has only been a little while since he'd been livid over that. But it turns out that it had been over nothing, because clearly Potter and Blaise are faking it. Draco has to give them props for that._

_Blaise glances at the parchment Potter has given him while Memory-Draco is pulling him away. "When the time is right," the note reads. Draco realises that the note goes with a ring. Potter is giving it back._

_**~x~**_

_**~x~**_

_Potter is breaking. It is silent suffering and he hides it in his hands, but Hermione can tell that his hurt is tremendous. She does not want to see him this way, so she decides that she must take matters into her own hands, if Potter will not. Draco wonders whether her sudden spirit is linked to the fact that she had not believed in Potter and Memory-Draco before. _

_With the help of Blaise, Pansy, the Weasleys, and Longbottom, Hermione quickly combines their memories of Draco and stores them in a small glass vial. After making sure that everything is in order, she sends it off by school owl, so that Draco will not know that it is she or the others until he watches the memories. Until he realises that **Harry **still loves him._

**~x~**

**~x~**

Draco flew back from the Pensieve, the dreamland vanishing as quickly as it had come. Whoa. He stumbled a little, falling backwards onto a stool; the air around him felt thick and he couldn't breathe. What had just happened? Those couldn't have been real. Had Granger played a joke on him? Draco felt fresh tears on his cheeks and he realised that he had been crying. If Potter had really been… he thought back on the few times he'd snubbed the boy since he'd regained his early memories. How it must have hurt.

Anxious to get out of there (and not wanting to get caught by Snape), Draco got up and fled the lab and the classroom, heading towards his own dorm. He needed proof. And if he were to get it, a bit of researching would be required. He burst in with a bang and went straight for his trunk. There had to something in here; he was always so careful and meticulous about those kinds of things.

But as soon as he opened the lid, he stopped. Could it be? The small box from the memory sat right on top, as if just recently placed there. It was then that Draco recognised it as the box containing his own father's ring and normally, he had kept it at the bottom of his trunk; he had never taken it out before. There had been no reason to. But now it was _right_ _there._

He took a deep breath, then picked it up gingerly and opened the lid. A battered piece of parchment flew out. Draco didn't need to read it to know what it was, but it landed face-up so that he could see the words anyway, written in his own distinctive script.

_When the time is right._

With a heavy heart, Draco closed his eyes. It was all true. Potter. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the bane of his existence... had saved him. Cared for him. Nurtured him, comforted him, befriended him, kissed him, hugged him… _Loved_ him.

And finally, all of those feelings that Draco had never understood made sense. There was no one else who could light such a blazing fire in him, no one else who could hold such prominent permanence in his life. Potter was everywhere, everything, for as long as he could remember. It was _fate._ From the moment Draco had first laid eyes on Potter, he had never been able to get his mind off of him. And now… now he finally understood what he hadn't known all of these years. He knew _why._

He loved Harry Potter. No matter where or when, or what state of mind he was in. Unconditionally. He _always had_. And maybe he was _meant_ to realise it for a second time, because maybe the first time just wasn't enough.

Draco jumped up from the floor, now full of energy, still gripping the ring box and the note in his hand. Without thinking about it, he dashed from the dorm and through the common room, out of the dungeons and around each corridor. He couldn't wait any longer; he had to see Potter—_Harry_. He had to tell him that he _remembered_.

Upon arrival at the Great Hall, he burst open the doors with vigor and it seemed that the entire population had turned to look at him as he interrupted their lunches. But the only one that could possibly matter was Harry.

But unfortunately, Harry wasn't there. Hadn't he come here? It was still lunchtime. Draco frowned and stalked over to the Gryffindor table, causing more heads to turn. "Where's Potter?" he demanded.

Ganger looked at him suspiciously, and then with interest. "What's it to you?"

Draco glowered at her. "I need to tell him that I'm in love with him," he snapped.

She stared at him for a few moments, and then smiled. "He went to the lake."

He rolled his eyes, grateful, but still hurried. And as he exited the castle and glanced around, he discovered that Granger was right; there was a lone figure when he finally reached the lake, and it was Harry. Draco took a deep breath and composed himself as he walked towards him, determined not to chicken out. He was still a Malfoy, after all, and he couldn't afford to lose it now.

"Hey," Draco called out, still a bit breathless from running, despite his Malfoy ritual.

Harry whipped around and stared, as if unsure of Draco's amicability. "Malfoy?"

"I remember everything."

Harry looked shocked for a moment, then confused, then suspicious. "Are you okay? Have you gotten hit in the head again?"

Draco came forward and slapped his arm. "That's not funny, you bastard! I remember everything. I've seen memories—"

Harry eyes became wide with shock. "You regained them? How?" he asked, incredulously.

"No," Draco replied, with a bit of impatience. "They gave them to me. Our friends. It was _their_ memories."

Harry was hushed for a moment. He shook his head slowly, as if disappointed. "So you don't remember."

"I just told you—"

"You only remember what they do," Harry cut in. "Nothing about us. Do you remember the dandelions? The tree we got caught in?" He looked as if he'd been standing there for a long while, thinking it over. "Do you remember the way it felt to sleep in my arms," he continued in a whisper, "or how I kissed you when you cried, when you trusted me with your entire existence? ...Do you remember_ any_ of that?"

Draco was quiet. None of that had been in the memories he'd seen, those private moments between him and Harry. And how could they be? It had only been the two of them.

"No," he said, reluctantly.

Harry closed his eyes, as if his hopes had just been crushed. "So don't say that you do," he murmured.

And it was then that Draco saw it. Saw it in the flesh, right where he could just reach out and feel it. Touch it. Love that was tangible; it was the rarest kind... that is, if it were genuine. So this wasn't a memory or a dream. Draco had been living through them for so long; he'd forgotten how it was to live in the _now_.

But Harry still loved him.

"None of that means anything," Draco remarked suddenly, causing Harry to open his eyes again and look at him sharply.

"What?"

"Those memories. They're not so important."

Harry shook his head. "You think that we can just pick up where we left off? Well, we _can't_. What we had isn't something that you can just watch or talk about, Draco; it's something you need to _feel._ And you don't feel any of it. I want you to remember me with your own heart and mind, not with what others show you… even if I might try to do so as well. I thought I could, but I realise now that it's never going to be the same. Because you can't remember me based on experiences you've only witnessed. And if you don't remember me… we have nothing."

Draco sighed with exasperation. How was he supposed to get through to Harry when he was so damn thick? "But we don't have nothing! It's exactly the opposite, we have _everything_!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What are you saying?"

"I mean, honestly, what do you think we've been doing for the past eight years, huh? You think we continue this fight because we have _nothing_? Come on, get real, Potter! You know we can do this again. We've always been doing it. You're just _scared._"

Harry began to act defensive. Like always. "Didn't you hear what I just told you? You don't actually remember me at all!"

"But I do!" Draco shot back. "You're the same little shit you've always been!"

"And you're the same arrogant, condescending prat _you've_ always been!"

"Oh, and you expect me to believe that_ disappoints_ you?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Draco put his hands on his hips. "You know you thrive off this. Sure, you liked the memory-wiped version of me, but you'd get bored of him after a while. Hello, Potter, I am the real deal here! Embrace that you've always _loved_ it!"

"What? You're insane!" Harry shouted.

"Gods!" Draco threw his hands up. "You're so fucking stubborn! What can I do to make you see that you don't have to play martyr for me? I'm still here! I'm still the same person that you fell in love with, damn it!"

Harry looked enraged now. "So what if you are? You don't love me! You don't remember _how_ to love me. And it'll only hurt you to try." His last words were quieter and he looked down at the ground.

Draco studied him. "You don't know that."

"I do. You've always hated me, why the hell would you change your mind?"

Draco stopped suddenly. "I never changed my mind."

"Exactly."

"I never hated you."

"Well, you never _liked_ me."

"Bullshit. I've loved you since fourth year."

There was a long pause.

"Stop lying," Harry murmured, uncertainly.

"I'm serious."

"No you're not."

"I am," Draco argued softly. "It was fourth year. The Triwizard Tournament, do you remember that? You could have _died_… it was the first time I realised that I would care if you did. And trust me, it only blossomed from there. In fifth year, I started exploring my feelings, but I ignored the ones that I had for you... you see, even though I slept with loads of blokes, I would never admit that they all resembled you in some way. It was shameful. But in sixth year, I finally realised that things were truly serious and I wanted you to protect me, but I was too proud to ask. Too selfish." Draco took a gulp of air as Harry stared at him, almost unbelievingly. He continued.

"During what was supposed to be our seventh year, I was holed up in the Manor. I intensely loathed myself then, and my mistakes were far too grand to miss. When you were captured and brought in, I couldn't identify you. Not because I didn't recognise you—I knew it was you from the moment you looked at me—I just _couldn't._ I finally understood that if you died, I could never redeem myself. My balance would be off forever. And after the war, I desperately wanted to explain why I did the things that I did, but I hadn't known how to. And up until now, I kept telling myself that I didn't care about you. I wished that we could go back to the way we were before, as petty rivals, and nothing more."

Draco paused again. "But now I know that we can never do that. I was lying to myself; it's impossible. Something clicked into place when I took that bludger for you, a part of me that I've been struggling to figure out for all of those years before... It's _you_, Harry. You're my missing piece. It's always been you."

Harry's eyes were glistening, but he didn't cry. "You've always had such a way with words, Draco Malfoy," he remarked, after a while.

"And I always will," Draco promised. He reached for Harry's hand tentatively, and the other boy didn't refuse it. "You know, compared to all of that, one year is highly insignificant. It's funny, because even though I lost my memory twice, I never once forgot you. And I guess that is what's really important."

Harry lowered his eyes. "Well, fuck. Guess I'm just being an arse, aren't I?"

"Yes. But it's in your nature, so it's not _completely_ your fault. It's just that your arse needs to be reminded that it doesn't have to save everybody else's all the time. _Especially_ mine."

Harry laughed out loud, and Draco loved the sound of it. How he could ever forget it was unimaginable. "All this time, I thought that the bludger had given me a second chance with you," Harry whispered. "But honestly, I don't think I ever needed one."

Draco smiled softly. "You didn't," he agreed. "But…perhaps _I_ do."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar little scrap, placing it in between their two palms. Then he took out the ring box and flicked it open as he got down on one knee, still holding Harry's hand.

"I didn't get it the first try," Draco said slowly. "But I genuinely believe that there couldn't be a more perfect time than this. Because we understand each other. We love each other. And there's nothing more right that that. So... will you marry me?"

Harry bit his lip, obviously fighting a smile. He squeezed Draco's hand playfully. "Will _you_ forget tomorrow morning?" he teased.

"That depends. Do you have another bludger?" Draco retaliated.

Harry yanked him up by the hand and kissed him hard, letting all of the memories and dreams and visions slip away from them. Because from now on, it was about the present. And Draco knew that they could fuss and fight over the past all they wanted, and they_ would_ fuss and fight, probably every day. But it was all going to be okay just as long as they knew that they would always have a future to fuss and fight about later.

Love was a curious thing. It could heal and mend the heart, the soul, the body; it could also destroy all that it had fixed in a moment's notice. It could be patient and kind, but at the same time manipulative and cruel. Love was messy, careless, and insane. It was all kinds of crazy things. But if it was with the right person, love could conquer all of that. Anything.

And Draco knew that if he were to forget everything all over again, at least he had this, right here, right now.

**Author's Note: Aaaand, scene! How did you guys like it? Did it meet your expectations? I really hope so, because this literally took me two-three days straight to write. And it's sooo long, but I hope it makes at least a little bit of sense. The whole idea of this fic was that no matter how much past they had, clean or dirty, their love could conquer it. I know it was complicated at times so thanks for sticking around!**

***Also, I didn't really know how the whole memory-watching process goes, so I don't know if you can watch multiple peoples' memories in one sitting. I'm just going to pretend you can, okay?***

**With that, I realize that there are some details that I didn't include. Like what happens to their friends, as well as Ginny and Neville, or Luna and Blaise, and not to mention the rest of their schooling and futures. I honestly don't know, so I thought that maybe an epilogue might happen. If so, what would you guys like to see there? How long after this moment should it be? One year, one decade? Any kinds of suggestions would be great, but if not, I can leave it at this too. Thank you guys for supporting and reading. I promise I'll be back! xo**


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